


Silence Louder Than Thunder

by Adiaphory



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Child Abuse, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Human Names, Italy needs a hug, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, background Spamano, little orphan Italy, triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5949376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adiaphory/pseuds/Adiaphory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life was never easy for Feliciano. If being abused wasn't bad enough, now he has to figure out how to live now that he's an orphan. Ironically enough, losing his abusive home causes more problems than they solve.</p><p>[Reposted from fanfiction.net. An attempt at a more realistic depression fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we are. I posted this about a year ago to ff.net but realized I never posted it here! My goal with this story was to make a more realistic depression fic because we've all seen a story with promise that ends with romance magically curing all the mental anguish. This story is not like that, there will be no romance to take the pain away. It is a struggle and it's slow.
> 
> I'll do what I can to post trigger warnings for each chapter but I may miss some. Refer to the tags for the gist of it.
> 
> Each chapter title is based on a song I felt fit it, but this isn't a songfic. I do, however, include a few lines at the ending author's note. The story itself began after an idea conceived from the song "Silence Louder Than Thunder" by The Devil Wears Prada.
> 
> **TW: Child abuse, anxiety, verbal abuse**

Feliciano nearly tripped over his own shoelaces as he hurried up the stone steps into the academy. He was running late, which was a very common occurrence with the young man. The bell signaled the start of class and he flew into his first class, barely seating himself before his teacher could turn around to shut the door.

“That’s the third time this month, Feliciano.”

“S-sorry, I missed the bus again.”

The older man sighed in obvious irritation. “That excuse won’t fly in the real world, Vargas. If you’re late one more time it’s detention. Understand?”

Feliciano’s face burned with embarrassment and he muttered, “Si, understood, sir,” while his classmates failed to conceal their snickering. High school wasn’t a friendly place for someone as alone as he was, he was always odd-man out and nothing seemed to change that.

The class went by uneventfully and slow, which was nothing new for a junior literature class. The bell rang and he gathered up his tattered books into his arms, ready to speed out of the room where his embarrassment still lingered heavy in the air.

“Not so fast, Vargas.”

He sighed and turned away from the door, going against the current of classmates to his teacher’s distant desk. “Yes, sir?”

“This is your third offense this semester, you know what that means?”

“Uh… slap on the wrist and no more warnings?”

“Nice try. It means I need to conference with your parents about this behavior before it becomes a habit.” He tore out a sheet of notebook paper and scribbled down a quick note, passing it to the young student. “Here. Have your parents sign this and bring it back to me tomorrow.”

Feliciano took the note and placed it securely in his binder. Before he could leave he was stopped once more by the bane of his existence. “And, Mr. Vargas? Your books were just issued in August and are already in terrible condition. Any more damage and you’ll need to pay for them in May. I’m already giving you slack considering its current condition.”

It was true, Feliciano’s school-issue books were in almost a worse shape than his own supplies, no matter how new or old they were. It wasn’t his fault, though, books just weren’t safe in his home. It was not a building of learning like the school; it was a building of _learning to hold your tongue_.

He nodded and rushed out of the room to his next class, which was luckily in the same hallway, otherwise he’d be late again. It was an art class, his favorite class (along with World History). He plopped down at his easel, next to his good friend Alfred and his twin brother, Matthew.

Their elderly teacher hobbled around the room, setting up a still-life in the center of easels. Alfred leaned over as Feliciano began to place his books and binders under his chair to make room for paints and brushes on the stand under his canvas. “Hey, you were almost late again,” he whispered.

“I know, my English teacher had me stay late.”

Matthew leaned over as well. “Why did he make you stay? Did you miss the bus again?”

“Si.”

Alfred loudly exhaled. “Dude thinks he can do anything he wants because second period is his planning class! I have him fourth and he _never_ holds us back. He makes you late for being late? What a hypocrite!”

A glare from their elderly teacher silenced them and she gave the class today’s lesson plan. “Class, settle down! Who can tell me what we’re doing today? Hm?” There was a long silence and students avoided her gaze, looking anywhere but at her. “No volunteers?” She picked up her class seating chart. “Matthew!”

The soft-spoken boy startled. “We’re… painting?”

“Very good! Class, remember, easels mean painting! This week I want everyone to wear old clothes because acrylic does not wash out! I have a box of aprons in the back for anyone who needs one.”

The class continued on smoothly. Anyone who knew Feliciano knew that this was his thing: he was always found doodling on homework page margins or working all class in art to perfect something as simple as shading. He was very driven when it came to creating his own personal masterpieces, something that tends to distract Alfred (who would get so caught up in watching his friend paint that he would neglect his own work). Alfred, being a suspected sufferer of ADHD by his teachers, always complained that he couldn’t just make his own “piece of garbage” while Picasso was right next to him. He also admitted to enjoying Feliciano mix paint into tie-dye-like colors on his pallet.

The brunette smiled to himself, very pleased that he finally found the right shade of brown to mix into the shading of the plastic apple on display in front of him. His canvas had the pencil sketches of all the fruits and empty wine bottles perfectly laid out, looking surreal against the nearly-finished painted apple and orange. Alfred marveled at his ability to put so much effort into painting one tiny part of the canvas, while he always tried to cover his entire board with a layer of paint before class let out. As a result, his canvas was a shiny beige of drying paint with nothing to indicate it was a still-life of fruit except for a few blobs of color at the bottom (where he “ _totally_ was gonna add some high-lights or whatever to make them into fruit”).

“Ten minute warning!” The old woman called out. Everyone filtered to the sink and trash cans and their artist cubbies where they were encouraged to cover their pallets in plastic-wrap to save their unused paint. Feliciano was notorious for working until the end of class, speeding through the cleaning process in a solid minute because he wanted as much time as he could get away with to paint. Once he started something, he couldn’t leave it unfinished. It was, as his friend Kiku called it, curse of the artist.

It was three minutes until classes changed; most students sat and pulled their chairs together, or waited at the door like dogs. Feliciano walked to the empty sinks and washed out his brushes. He smiled when he turned back to his easel to see Matthew and Alfred had already cleared away his supplies and put them away.

“If we help you clean, then you have more time to paint, and that’s more time for us to watch,” Matthew would shyly say every time Feliciano asked them about why they helped.

The rest of his classes passed slowly, and lunch was excruciatingly slow considering he didn’t have money for food. He sat in the bathroom stalls that day, sketching in his spare notebook until the bell changed classes again. Having last lunch meant switching classes as soon as he was done eating (or in today’s case, starving alone in a bathroom).

After school he headed straight into town, on his way to his part-time job at a small flower shop. It was September and the business was slowing down. His hours were being cut shorter and shorter and he joked with Alfred that if he didn’t know any better he’d say his boss was trying to get rid of him.

He frowned. It wouldn’t be the first time he wasn’t wanted.

Feliciano tugged his thin jacket over his arms tighter, the bitter wind causing him to shiver against the fraying fabric. He desperately needed a new jacket; this one was from middle school and only fit because it was his brother, Lovino’s, and at the time it was cool to have clothes just a bit too big. He fingered the small, red embroidered tomato on the chest, wishing Lovino hadn’t moved out so soon. His brother was twenty-two, while he was seventeen. It was hard having him away.

Feliciano smiled when he saw the storefront, the large windows full of colorful flowers and ribbons. He walked in, waving to his boss, Roderich Edelstein. He entered the “employee’s only” stock room, cramming his books into the small locker and putting his jacket up on a rusty hook. Then he tied on an oversized apron with the company name _Edelstein Florists_ in cracked print; the apron was so large it had to be wrapped around the young Italian’s slender waist to resemble a dress.

“Good evening, Mr. Edelstein,” he chirped when he reemerged from the stock area.

“Hello to you, too, _Italy_ ,” he smirked.

Feliciano chuckled while he walked around the displayed flowers, checking for dead leaves to trim. “You’re real funny, _Austria_.” A small giggle alerted them to the woman at the front door: Elizaveta, Mr. Edelstein’s young wife.

“Are you two still doing that?” She smiled softly and skirted around Feliciano to get a closer look at some white poppy flowers, delicately lifting the petals with her hands and taking in the scent.

Feliciano had an art-based mind, meaning he did poorly in other classes. While he enjoyed World History, mostly because of the renaissance period and the amazing art to come from it, he didn’t have the memory to hold in the text from books or words from lectures. He nearly failed his sophomore year history class, almost having to quit his job at the flower shop, until Roderich decided the best route to take was to help Feliciano study at work since he clearly didn’t at home.

“It’s only been a month,” he told his wife. “We can’t let Feliciano fail History. I can’t have my best worker quitting on me!”

Feliciano pulled a browning flower from the back of a display. “I’m your only worker,” he laughed.

“I know.”

The door had an old bell attached to it, dinging loudly whenever a patron entered. The bell dinged loudly as a regular, Ivan Braginsky, came into the florescent-lit shop.

“Hello, Mr. Braginsky!” Feliciano called from behind a large potted sunflower.

“Well, hello, Feli,” he replied in his usual Russian accent. He continued to the counter, talking briefly with Roderich as Feliciano cut a few sunflowers by the stems and wrapped them up. He thanked the young teen while he handed Roderich his money. “My sisters will love these,” he smiled.

He was gone in an instant and Roderich’s eye twinkled before he pounced. “POP QUIZ!”

Feliciano moaned. His boss, to ensure he didn’t fail, hammered him with pop quizzes on history (focusing on the World Wars) randomly throughout work days. To make sure he didn’t forget, he’d ask the same questions multiple times. He said he didn’t want Feli to skate through life on beginner’s luck.

“What two countries are like sisters to Russia?”

He should have known he’d get a Russia question: Ivan was Russian, and a natural choice to represent the nation for his studies. “Belarus and the Ukraine,” he sang out. Roderich smiled.

“See, _Italy_? I knew you could memorize this if you could see the nations as faces!” He tossed a candy bar to the teen (the traditional reward for correct quiz answers), who snatched it up greedily and ate it instantly. He hummed in contentment.

Elizaveta swept the floor and watched the boys from afar, feeling warm inside, proud them. Ever since Feliciano began working for them he’s been like family, even if he doesn’t know it yet. There was something charming about the clumsy teen. She checked her watch, calling out, “Feli, honey, it’s seven. Time to go home.” She was always surprised when Feliciano would frown and quickly recover at the idea. The three of them did one more sweep of the shop, cleaning up the rest of the spilled dirt or fallen petals. They sent Feliciano out ahead of them while they locked the shop up.

“Good night, Mr. Edelstein! Good night, Elizaveta!”

He fumbled with his jacket’s zipper as he walked down the dimly-lit sidewalk before remembering it had been busted since January. “I really need a new jacket,” he hummed to himself. It was nearly eight o’clock by the time he returned home and, though he lived close to work and school, he made an effort to be late on his return trips. His parents didn’t need to know it only took ten to twenty minutes on a good day to get to town or to school.

He gripped his books to his chest tightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, eventually gaining the courage to open the front door, which was unlocked as usual. The floorboards creaked under his weight and the door made a loud wood-on-wood scratching noise since the door wasn’t aligned right with the frame. The house was cheap and everyone knew it, though that was far from why Feliciano never had guests over. Or friends. Or anyone.

He toed his shoes off, carrying them in his other hand as he walked to his room. In all honestly he was surprised no one stopped him yet. His father was usually on the living room couch (being the first room you enter when you enter the house). His mother was always in her bedroom, another place he had to pass through to enter his small sanctum. Remembering the teacher note he, for once, hoped frantically they hadn’t left without telling him again. He knew he was in trouble for having a note, but he was _dead_ if they had to get called by the school.

He made it to his bedroom, pushing the solid door open with his shoulder. The doorknob was broken and in the kitchen drawer, leaving his room to be the easiest one in the entire house to “break into.” He stopped when he saw his parents sitting on his bed, the mattress sagging heavily under their combined weight and the broken spring box. They looked livid and their eyes told them they had been drinking.

Dad drinking alone was bad. Mom drinking alone was bad. Dad _and_ mom drinking _together_? He was inevitably screwed.

His father was a large Italian man, fresh off the boat and very mean. His mother was the seventeen-year old who he married in a teenage act of rebellion against her parents. Neither had graduated school, and both blamed it all on Feliciano. Lovino was born when their mom was eighteen, but he wasn’t around to be yelled at anymore. Logic took a backseat and anger took control of everything and anything.

“What is this?” His mother slurred, holding up a beginning-of-the-year test Feliciano took (and failed) in World History. “F? You failed a fucking test on where you’re from?”

“ _Mi dispiace, mamma_ ,” Feliciano panicked. “It was to see how much we already knew and they teach history differently from middle school did—”

The rage in his father’s eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. “ _Che cosa_?” he screamed. The burly man continued to yell in slurred Italian. He was accusing Feliciano of trying to lie, though Feliciano couldn’t make out half the words. His father was already on his feet, his arm swung back and hit Feliciano’s cheek so hard it knocked him and his belongings on the dirty floor. His eyes stung and he opened them to see his sprawled out notebooks and an empty liquor bottle. His father stepped over him (not before stepping on his hand) and turned to his wife, slurring for her to come with him before walking out to collapse on the couch.

His drunken mother narrowed her eyes when he saw Feliciano weakly pull his books together in a pile, the teacher’s note falling freely to the floor. “What’s that?”

Feli swallowed. “A… a teacher note…”

“The fuck did you do this time?”

He stumbled to his feet, taking his father’s place on the bed and handing the note over. “I was late to class again… he wants to talk with you about it…”

Another smack on the cheek had him reeling while his mother angrily walked away with the note, slamming the door the best she could. Feliciano stared at the round hole in the wood, barely making out his mother walking in the direction of her room. The loud snores of his father calmed him down and the fear crept away, though never fully leaving. He curled up under his blanket, closing his eyes, forcing his burning cheek against the cool pillow.


	2. Give Me Novacaine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Anxiety, Graphic child abuse, Hospital visit**

Feliciano woke up earlier than usual that day, before either parent. His luck was turning up! The other night his dad had beat him so hard he overslept his alarm, having to run the entire distance from his house to school. His head still ached when he thought about it.

He tip-toed out of his room and into the shared family bathroom. The lock on that door thankfully worked, but it was the only lock in the house to do its job. He peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor with the rest of his clothes. The glare of the mirror, broken in two places, brought his attention to his body. His torso was lithe and pale, too pale for an Italian boy. He lifted his arms above his head, marveling at the thin layer of skin moving over the small muscles. His stomach skin stretched and appeared even flatter than usual, his ribs protruding in even lines while his hip bones pointed outward sharply from his body.

It was no secret to his family that he didn’t eat enough. Mom and Dad liked to use their “extra” money on liquor, lottery tickets… generally some new kind of white-trash money hole. They expected their youngest son to eat at school, sometimes refusing to feed him dinner or breakfast because he “would get fat and expect food every day.” He inhaled evenly and tried to calm his aching, contorting stomach. He slipped away from the mirror before he could get further lost in his own skin, stepping gingerly into the shower and washing himself as quickly as he could with their limited soap and hot water.

Once the shower was done Feliciano snuck back to his bedroom, not surprised to see his father still asleep on the couch. He changed, throwing his old clothes on his bed, and grabbed his school supplies before heading to the front door. He paused when he saw the teacher note sitting on the kitchen table; he picked it up, reading it for the first time since his English teacher scribbled it out.

_Mr. and Mrs. Vargas,_

_It has come to my attention that your son, Feliciano, has trouble arriving to school on time. This has been an on-going occurrence and today was his third late arrival since the start of the school year. I would like to talk with you about your son’s current progress and home situation to affirm whether he is truthful in his excuses for being late. It disrupts the teachings of my class and hinders not just his education, but that of the entire class. Tomorrow (September 15) would be ideal to speak with you about his behavior. Please sign this note to prove you have read it and whether or not you can attend the meeting._

Feliciano’s grip of the white page tightened and crinkled the dirtying paper. How could his teacher say that? To write to his parents in such an arrogant way, as if they were children themselves. He may be late often but it’s always under five minutes! In fact, he was there on time more often than the teacher himself, who comes in half the time with the excuse of having car trouble. This note made him sound even worse than he was at coming to school. And to top it off that line about him being truthful makes it sound as if he was making up lies of grandeur!

He had never been so mad at a teacher in his high school life. The bright red marker bleeding through the bottom of the page displayed his mother’s response, likely a drunken one from the night before.

_Tomorrow works for us. Thank you for bringing this to our attention._

His mother’s name was scrawled in tight, overlapping letters. He easily could have forged the note if his handwriting was that sloppy. Feliciano glanced at the bright time on the oven clock, sighing at what he knew would be a bad day at school.

Knowing the teacher had a penchant for ruining his plans, Feliciano left home early so he could stop by _Edelstein Florists_ to tell Roderich he might not be able to make it to work that night.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Roderich,” he whined. “But my English teacher is a real dick.” Roderich and Elizaveta both chuckled, knowing Feliciano to be a sweet boy… but it was hilarious whenever he used language like that.

“It’s okay, _Italy_ ,” Elizaveta winked. “You work too hard. Study your history tonight with your free time, yeah?” Roderich nodded in agreement, patting Feliciano on the head.

“Now get to school, and be back tomorrow with your textbook.” He laughed at the groan from the young man. First he has to sit through a parent-teacher conference with the three people he disliked being alone with most, and now he has to give his boss more ammunition for pop quizzes? Today was not his day.

* * *

“Thank you, Mr. Vargas.”

Handing in the note wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be—though the snickers from his classmates was just as bad. It was decided that his parents would come after school to talk with his teacher, which he had to be present for. Going home today was going to be a whole new level of pain.

The day passed all too quickly for the young Italian, the coiling fear in his stomach winding tighter and tighter as the day moved forward. He was so distracted in his art class that he spent the entire hour helping Alfred with his own painting instead. He knew he would be a better distraction, since painting on his own was just time for him to focus and he did _not_ want to focus on what would surely happen after school. Alfred was thrilled to have help mixing colors and applying them, though Matthew watched from the sidelines with some doubt in his mind for why the artistic teenager would give up his own work time. 

It was soon seventh period, the last class for the day and Feliciano’s study hall. This was the left-over class—each student was assigned a study period if their schedule needed another class. It was seen by everyone, even administrators, as a filler period. This meant all grades were mixed in since it wasn’t level-specific in any way. Feliciano’s study hall was a mixture of mostly senior students, making him an anomaly being the only junior there.

Right after this hour he would have to wait for his parents in his English class. The knowledge was burning through him and made his stomach churn and growl at him.

“Feliciano, is something the matter?”

He jumped, startled by the deep voice. Looking up he was met with the cool, blue eyes of Ludwig Beilschmidt, his best friend despite being a year ahead and vastly different. This friendship was an enigma to anyone who knew them, knowing they were from different worlds by sight alone. Ludwig was serious and strong; Feliciano was known for being carefree and a bit of a scaredy-cat.

Feliciano stumbled over his worlds, only making weird noises until he could get out, “I’m fine.”

“That’s not true,” Ludwig stated as he sat next to the younger man. “You’re obviously upset by something.”

Damn Ludwig and his concern. “My dick English teacher has a meeting with my parents today,” he mumbled back. “Because I’m late to class too much…”

Ludwig blinked. He never did understand why his friend got so worked up over his parents. “Don’t let it bother you, Feliciano. You’ll feel better once you get it over with.”

The anxiety grew within him. “Yeah, you’re right…”

“Are you hungry?” The blonde pulled a candy bar from his messenger bag, which was loosely hanging from his chair. “You like sweets?”

The turning of his stomach continued, gurgling loudly. He shyly took the candy, nibbling on it carefully and slowly, a newfound need for it growing, not knowing anymore if he was nervous or just starving.

They chatted through the class, even studying briefly the topics Feliciano knew would be on his next history test. For the first time that day he felt okay, even forgetting about the meeting. He smiled like his usual self. Ludwig was glad to see a real smile instead of that forced one his young friend liked to wear whenever he was nervous about some new mystery topic.               

The ringing of the bell brought him back to reality. The pain in his flat stomach returned tenfold as he gathered his books and walked with Ludwig to his class. He flinched when he felt the big hand of the German on his shoulder, a comforting motion. “Deep breaths, Feliciano. You’ll feel better when you get back home.” 

Feliciano smiled at his attempt and said his farewells before begrudgingly entering the classroom. The teacher motioned him over to a desk near his own, murmuring that they would begin once his parents got there. And after twenty minutes of soul-crushing waiting, they arrived. Feliciano recognized their “best” clothes with their “best” parent faces on.

If he didn’t know any better he’d say they were decent people. Those fuckers were good.

And so the conference went on. Mr. and Mrs. Vargas feigned shock at the idea that their precious son could slack off and be so late so often! They raised him better than that! They would be sure to punish him accordingly when they arrived home.

“Do not worry,” Mr. Vargas calmly told the other man, his thick accent rolling into the words. “We will make sure Feliciano arrives early from now on.” His English was broken but professional nonetheless. It baffled Feliciano why his dad only seemed to speak Italian when he was home and hammered drunk.

Mrs. Vargas thanked the man for his time and the three exited the room together, the perfect act of a normal family. They hopped in the old Vista Cruiser, complete with peeling wood paneling on the outside. The ride was nerve-wracking and the air was thicker than ever.

The sight of their trashy home came into view. The car slowed into the driveway, making questionable hacking noises as it did so. Together they entered their home, one by one, the heavy door closing behind them. Feliciano turned to face his parents, both with matching looks of growing anger, pent up since the meeting.

He didn’t even have time to brace himself before his mother’s sharp hand struck his sensitive cheek, and his father’s thicker fist came crashing down on him right on the collar bone. He cried out as he backed into the kitchen wall divider, hurting his back in the process. Father continued to beat on him until he was a cowering mass on the floor. That was the best method for tiring out his dad, which he learned partly from Lovino: _don’t fight back, don’t cry, and don’t run._

It felt like hours before his father had finished up. His parents lazily grabbed their keys, strolled out the door, and left. He heard the engine of their car sputtering before driving away, likely to a bar or a friend’s house. He never really knew, he didn’t care. It meant he was safe from more beatings for the night.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little concerned when he felt a sharp pain in his head upon sitting up from his spot on the floor. Even worse was the hot, sticky feeling running down his hair to his neck, and the smeared spots of blood on the floor and the wall. He reached back to touch his head but shrieked in surprise when it was more painful than usual.

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

Feliciano felt a sudden wave of terror go through him as his vision blurred. He leaned forward on his knees, bracing the floor with one hand while using the other to cover his mouth as his breaths grew ragged. Adrenaline was good, he knew, for a quick run to the bathroom or somewhere safe to heal. The splitting headache behind his eyes, however, told him he would need a little more this time than a few bandages and ice pack. This was _bad_. His parents’ sober beatings were so much stronger without the alcohol to slow them down or make them sloppy.

Feliciano flashed back to school today, before he was bleeding out on the floor with potential brain damage. When he was safe and relatively unharmed and the fear was the only thing hurting him.

_“Deep breaths, Feliciano.”_

He gasped for air, sobbing a bit when it sent a wave of pain slowly through his skull. The worst part was he knew he had no more supplies—the bandages were all used up from the other day and he didn’t think it was safe to take pain medicine and potentially fall asleep and _die_.

Feliciano struggled to his feet, moaning as his toes cracked underneath him. Broken? _Snap._ Broken. He limped to the couch, only a few feet away but as painful as walking on glass (or in his case, _broken toes_ ). His head wasn’t bleeding profusely but he still needed something to cover up the gash; so he began today’s journey: _walking into town, to the pharmacy, to inconspicuously buy himself supplies while also hiding the fact his parents had just beaten him so badly he was having a hard time staying conscious on his feet._

An old beanie was left on the couch arm, which would have to do for hiding his misery to the public. The floorboards creaked as he hobbled outside, mentally noting that he’d need to ask Roderich quickly for an advance on his paycheck.

He hobbled for nearly an hour to get into the town, hunched over and holding himself, hissing through his teeth at the bitter air mixing with his bruising skin and aching feet. The flower shop came into view and he sighed in relief knowing he was one step closer to fixing himself up.

The bell dinged loudly and ripped through his ears when he limped in the store, taking smaller steps in an attempt to hide it. Elizaveta peaked over some flowers and frowned when she saw the young man. Something was definitely off about him.

“Feliciano!” She called. He cringed. “You have the day off, what are you doing here?”

His smile was fake as ever, mixed with his cringe from the loud noises invading his head. “Oh, Ms. Elizaveta,” his voice cracked. “I just need to ask Mr. Edelstein for an advance…”

“Your payday is tomorrow,” she said. The state of the Italian was more apparent now that she could get a better look at him. His clothes were disheveled and his hair was messy under his hat. “Hold on, Italy. I’ll get Roderich.”

“Grazie,” he smiled.

She hurried to the back room where Roderich was sorting through paperwork as he always did on such slow days. He knew something was wrong before Elizaveta could even begin ranting her worry for Feliciano.

They both came out, finding Feliciano now leaning against the counter with his one foot lifted from the floor slightly. He smiled at the two, doing his best to suppress his pain.

It took all of Roderich’s will power not to gasp when he saw Feliciano’s face, complete with a bruising cheek and a cut on his forehead that had a dried blood trailing down to his nose. Times like now made him wonder if the young man even owned a mirror.           

“Feliciano, what happened?”

The smile faltered. “I—”

“You’re bleeding,” Elizaveta’s concerned voice supplied.

His eyes opened wide when he realized he had been caught. Where was he bleeding from? There was no way they could see his head under the beanie…

The adults approached him slowly and noted the small flinch when Elizaveta reached out and moved away some stray hairs from his forehead with her silky-soft fingers. He didn’t like all the attention he was getting right now.

“Never mind, I should get going—” He quickly backed away, stumbling over his broken toes and nearly falling, being caught by the wrists by Roderich. The sudden movement caused another head rush to melt into his brain. He swayed a bit, being steadied by the couple. They grabbed his arms firmly as he placed his hand to his head, eyes screwed shut, breathing heavy.

Before he could argue they were helping him walk outside, to the parking lot, and laying him down in the backseat of their car. The pain echoed in his body but the seats were a much needed change. His eyes were closed and he felt himself drifting away as the car doors closed and concerned voices spoke in tones that got quieter and quieter until everything went silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Give Me Novacaine" by Green Day**
> 
> _Take away the sensation inside_   
>  _Bittersweet migraine in my head_   
>  _It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind_   
>  _I can't take this feeling anymore_


	3. Passenger Seat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was diagnosed with anxiety a few months after finishing this story (a year ago), so anxiety is a constant theme here. Some feelings are based more on reality than anything else.
> 
> **TW: Minor character death**

He woke up when he felt a pair of arms lifting him to a sitting position. Roderich was leaning outside the car helping him up while the pain flooded back to his skin.  

“What’s happening?” he weakly mumbled.

“We’re getting you help,” his boss replied.

Bright lights and sirens invaded his senses next. “Hospital?”

“Yes.”   

“I can’t afford…”              

“We’ll take care of it.”   

“My parents…”

Roderich pulled Feliciano out of the car and his wife came around to help support the teen. “Don’t worry about them, Feliciano.”

The next couple of hours were a blur. He was carted off with some nurses and away from the comfort of his bosses. He faintly remembered being looked over, questioned about his pain, taken to get his head scanned, and finally getting stiches in his scalp and having his toes set.

Roderich and Elizaveta hurried to his side once they were allowed to see him again in the curtained-off room of temporary patients. It was heartbreaking to see him lying on a gurney with bandages wrapped around his head. Feliciano was tired and, now, painless. When did they give him medicine? Next thing he knew he was being helped into a wheelchair by someone much stronger than him and rolled away. He couldn’t say he fell asleep again, but he wasn’t fully awake either. The apparent pain medicine in his system made him feel heavy and light at the same time. It was like floating through a fog and it was a strange but welcome feeling.

The cold air meant he was outside again and the arms around his waist meant he was being helped back into the car. It was the most soothing thing he’d ever experienced—painless, tired, and in a humming car.

* * *

He was surprised to open his eyes and be met with an ache in his head, no longer painless, and a warmth all around his body. Further inspection told him he was in a bed. It was weird to be in a car then a moment later in a house. The entire drive was lost to his memory.

Feliciano sat up, cringing only slightly. This wasn’t his room, or his house. It was light outside.

“Oh shit.”

_It was Friday and he wasn’t in school. He was so screwed._

Soft footsteps echoed in the room until the door opened with Elizaveta carrying a small tray of food in. “You’re awake,” she smiled. Feliciano looked on in confusion. “We called the school, Roderich drove up there himself to give the principal the note from the hospital. You’re excused today.”

“B-but, my parents…”

“They must be worried sick… We have a phone you can use.”

“We don’t have a phone,” he lied in a mumbled. “Can I go home?”

Feliciano sat in silence while his caretaker considered the options. He was hurt and needed help, but it would be wrong to keep him there while his parents were most likely worrying their heads off at their house since their child never came home last night. Said child was looking very anxious in his bed, and Elizaveta was getting the haunting feeling that it wasn’t because he couldn’t call his mom and dad.

“We need to have a talk first,” she said softly, sitting on the bed next to the boy. He cringed lightly at the movement as the motion reminded him of his bruises.

“About what?” his voice cracked.

“You never said how you got hurt.” There was a silence, neither of the two wanting to break it but knowing the young man would have to. The way his eyes looked anywhere but at her own told her something was wrong, like he wanted to keep this a secret. It was like he was embarrassed to be there and to be damaged at all, like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“I, uh…” his voice was a pitch higher, giving away his nervousness. “I was walking home after school, and…”

“Yes, Feli? Then…?”

“And… I guess I took a wrong turn, and before I knew it some guy was beating on me…”

The information made Elizaveta gasp. “Oh my, how did you get away?”

“They got tired and left,” he said truthfully. “They left me there… So I got up and left, too…”

The Hungarian woman frowned and gently held Feliciano’s hand for a moment, taking in everything. How could someone hurt him, this sweet young man? He was the happiest, kindest teenager she had ever met. Poor Feliciano must be an easy target, being so passive.

“I’ll take you home once Roderich comes back,” she said softly. “He has the car.”

“Where did he go?”

“The pharmacy,” she smiled. “To get you something for the pain. Thank heavens the doctor said you didn’t have any damage to your head, other than what needed a few stiches.”

Being here in this bed was making Feliciano feel strange. Was this jealously? Was he actually getting envious of this home, this warm bed, these nice adults who treat him so kindly rather than his own family who abandons him and beats him?

Then he felt selfish. He felt like he was being ungrateful—he at least had a home with some food and an actual, biological family. He shouldn’t be so mad they put him in his place every once in a while. Maybe he deserved this. If he wasn’t late to school so much this wouldn’t be a problem.

But he was late because they hurt him and he overslept!

No. He was late because he wasn’t responsible enough to get up on time. He was just like his brother: _lazy_. That’s what his parents and teachers always said, and he had little reason to refute it. There was no evidence against it, but rather for it.

Elizaveta noticed the young man’s change in demeanor, how his eyes dropped a touch and how he was being so uncharacteristically quiet, even for an assault victim.

“Are you feeling okay, Feli?”

His eyes met hers, and he mumbled, “Just tired…”

She frowned again. He was surprised when she moved to sit beside him, getting comfortable in the bed and over the blankets. She pulled the young Italian to her chest, making his head rest against her shoulder. She traced her fingers through his hair, careful of the bandage and the stitched area, soothingly raking her trimmed nails against his scalp.

She hummed as she played with his hair, acting as the ultimate mother figure in his life. Feliciano figured she felt bad for what happened to him, bless her big heart, so he let it happen. He was doing this for her, not for him. He was letting her feel important and motherly. He totally didn’t like this or need this, no. He had his own mom.

She smacked him around and yelled at him, but still. He had a mom.

 This was the comfiest he had ever felt touching another person. He couldn’t remember the last time his mom ever did this for him. Back when he and Lovino were little, things were different; their parents actually loved them. Things changed when his dad lost his job and when his mom started drinking. Things fell apart so fast it was as if _World War Three_ had played out in their house, but there were no allies to help and no axis to fight. It was a warzone and there was no aide coming to help.

And soon he was asleep again, caught up in his thoughts and the warm embrace of the mother he wished he had.

* * *

Roderich came home to a silent house, carrying a paper bag with medicine for his young worker. Upon entering the guest room he found the sweetest sight before him: his young wife cradling a sleeping Feliciano, looking at him like he was her own child.

Elizaveta glanced up, whispering, “He woke up earlier.”

“How is it?” he asked, sitting down in a chair and setting the bag down on the foot of the bed.

“He wants to go home,” she frowned.

“Certainly not! He’s not leaving this bed until I say he can move.”

His wife bit her lip and looked down at the boy. “Help me lay him down. I don’t want to wake him.” Roderich reached around the other side of the bed, slipping the small teen back onto the overstuffed pillow, readjusting the blankets as well. They were relieved he was still out, though he likely still had the hospital medicine in his system.

“I worry about that kid,” he mumbled.

“I do, too, Roddy. He seemed so sad when he woke up, _so afraid_. What if he’s not telling us something? What if he’s being bullied at school?”

With a sad sigh, Roderich sat back down, saying, “It’s none of our business, sadly. We’re not his parents.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “This coming from the man who just said he wouldn’t _allow_ Feli to leave until he said so? We can’t keep him here… he wants to go home.”

“We can call his home.”

“He said they don’t have a phone.”

 He sighed. “Fine. We’ll feed him, give him some medicine, and take him back if he’s feeling well enough.”

Neither of them were happy with the solution or the situation, and they’d keep the young man with them forever if they could. But this wasn’t a movie and there was no fairytale ending waiting to be fallen into. This was a questionable teenager who wants nothing more than to go home when he can’t even stand on his own.

A few hours later he was awake again, sleepy but coherent and understanding of his surroundings. He happily ate what Elizaveta fed him—this would be the best he’d eat until a friend would take pity and invite him over for dinner or give him candy in class. That is, until _Ludwig_ invited him over or gave him candy like he was prone to. Feliciano tried to fight Roderich on the pain medicine, saying he felt fine and could walk home when they offered him a ride.

“Your toes are broken and your head has stitches,” Roderich stated, tutting. “That alone calls for a few of these,” he jiggled the generic orange bottle in his hand. “And with those toes I won’t allow you to walk anywhere for a while.”

“Then how am I supposed to get places?”

“You have friends with cars.”

“How do I get to school?”

“The bus.”

“But how—”

Roderich popped the lid off the bottle and shook a few capsules onto his palm. “Enough! When you get home you can ask your parents what to do. While you’re with me, I’ll make the decisions. No walking, and no enduring pain when it’s _unnecessary_. Take these.”

_But it was necessary_. It was so very, **_very_** necessary in his life. There wasn’t a single day that passed without something hurting. When his parents weren’t there, it was his mind. The doubts and questions and demands for why him and the guilt for being so ungrateful.

He took the pills, drinking them down and finishing his food from his comfy, temporary bed.

“Good,” Roderich smiled. “If you’re feeling well in an hour we’ll drive you home.”

Feliciano laid back in his bed, relaxing as much as he could before he had to go home (before he _got_ to go home), when…

“Pop quiz!”

He groaned and nuzzled into his pillow. Even when he was laid up in bed he couldn’t escape this!

* * *

The three experienced mixed feelings as they hobbled to the parked car, adults both trying to help Feliciano (who they made wear a black, covered-in-Velcro boot from when Elizaveta had broken an ankle the Christmas before). They got to the car, Elizaveta stopping to help Feliciano with his seatbelts despite him having no damage to his hands. She made Roderich feel warm sometimes with the motherly things she did.

Feliciano gave them instructions as they drove, trying his best to remember the nicest route to his trashy home. He knew the surrounding area, no matter what, would be ugly and gross but he could at least try to make it seem less so.

Roderich furrowed his eyebrows when he pulled into the driveway, littered with cigarette butts and random broken glass. The door was uneven in the hinges and the front windows were broken, held together by duct tape or covered with cardboard.  The lawn was overgrown and there were dented trashcans on their sides with raccoons and cats riffling through.

Feliciano tried not to panic when he noticed his parents’ car was still gone, as if they never came home. Or maybe they came home and saw he was gone and left again? They’d be so pissed he ran off, _oh God_ , and when they find out he had been to the hospital with some other couple paying for it? He was so screwed. This was so bad and it was getting harder to breathe and—

“Feliciano?” Elizaveta placed a hand awkwardly on his shoulder from the passenger seat. “Are you okay? Breathe, Feli, it’s okay.”

Oh no, now he was having a panic attack. They’re going to know something is wrong and they’re going to find out his parents hit him and it was them who broke him so bad. They’re going to know and they’ll have the hospital records and they’ll be taken away from him and Lovino will hate him even more and—

Elizaveta was now in the backseat with him, rubbing his back and talking to him lowly but he couldn’t hear it. Roderich was now at his other side, at the open car door, holding his hand. When did they get there?

“Feli, calm down,” the woman cooed. “Calm down and tell us what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

Fix it? More like ruin everything he’d been working toward.

After a few minutes he was able to focus on her voice and take deep breaths. The hyperventilating was making him dizzy and he used his free hand to hold his head.

“ _Mi… mi dispiace_ ,” he choked out, finally catching his breath. Quickly coming up with an excuse, he muttered, “My parents aren’t home. I just… worry.”

The couple exchanged skeptical looks but helped Feliciano up anyway, almost carrying him to the door, which was unlocked but still difficult to open. They were shocked to see the state of his home, destroyed further inside than outside.

Elizaveta tugged Roderich’s sleeve behind Feliciano’s back and pointed to the kitchen wall, and he felt sick seeing the smeared blood on the tile that slipped down to the floor… about where someone sitting would rest against.

Things began to make sense.

Feliciano turned around and smiled, “Grazie for bringing me home.” He was happy, but still tired.

“Let us stay,” Elizaveta asked. “To make sure you’re alright. We can make you dinner if your parents aren’t back by then.”

Feliciano’s smile faded. “That’s okay, they’re usually out late and they wouldn’t like it if I was mooching from my bosses.”

Roderich stepped forward, helping Feliciano (somewhat against his will) to sit on the shabby, patchy couch. More dust filtered from the stained cushions and he could swear he saw a small beetle scurrying out from one of the holes exposing browning, yellow cushion foam.

“Feliciano,” he said quietly, opting to sit across from him on the coffee table rather than risk the couch. “Why wouldn’t your parents want us here?”

The young man stopped, trying to think of something reasonable to say. Elizaveta stood there, glancing around the torn home. She saw the busted doorknobs and the assorted alcohol bottles on the floor, some partially hidden by discarded laundry. She could see into Feliciano’s own room, filled with shabby excuses for furniture and discarded bandage boxes on the floor.

She remembered when they took him to the hospital.

_“What’s happening?” he weakly mumbled._

_“We’re getting you help,” his boss replied._

_"Hospital?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I can’t afford…”_

_“We’ll take care of it.”_

_“My parents…”_

His parents. Why didn’t he want them to know he was beat up? Why didn’t he want them to know he was at the hospital? Why would he hide that he was hurt from them?

And Elizaveta considered, maybe he wasn’t hiding it from his parents. Maybe he was hiding his parents from them.

Roderich _tsked_ , stating, “This is no place for you to be right now. You could easily step on something and hurt your toes worse. Does this house even have running water? I can’t risk my best employee getting an infection on top of his broken bones.”

“But my parents—”

“ _Aren’t here_.”

Feliciano stopped and stared at his boss, wide-eyed. “They’ll be back soon, I know they will be.”

“And we can help explain to them what happened.”

Suddenly Feliciano felt himself panicking again, hurriedly crying out, “No!”

Roderich and Elizaveta stared at him, stunned. “Feli, Roddy’s right. You’re better off at our home, where we can make sure you’re healing right.”

“No, I’m better off _here_. I can heal by myself, I’m fine alone, so just go already!”

This young man seemed full of surprises today. They had never seen him act so frantically before and it was unsettling, especially since he was choosing this kind of damaged environment to stay in.

There was a knocking on the door behind them, causing Feliciano to jump a bit before biting out, “See? They’re back and you can _go away_ now.”

Those words hurt Elizaveta to hear, but she knew he didn’t mean what he said. He was such a sweet boy, yet he was acting so… wrong. She turned around, opening the door and letting the boys stay seated. She felt her heart drop when she was faced with two police officers instead of whoever Feliciano’s parents were.

“Is this the Vargas residence?” asked a tall man with a stoic voice and glasses.

Elizaveta turned to see Feliciano, who looked surprised and like he was ready to panic again.

“Yes, it is,” she whispered, feeling her stomach drop.

“May we come in?” asked a shorter cop, wearing a cross-shaped clip in his hair.

She glanced back at the boys before nodding. They entered the run-down home, keeping their professional straight faces from showing their disgust at the wreck.

“I am Officer Oxenstierna. This is my partner, Officer Bondevik. We’re here on unfortunate terms…”     

Officer Bondevik cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We’re sorry to say that Mr. and Mrs. Vargas died late last night.” 

The room began spinning as Feliciano processed what he heard. “M… momma and papa… are dead?” His eyes quickly welled up and he was crying before the officers could confirm it. He sat there, sobbing on the couch while the officers spoke with his caregivers. Time passed so slowly in this moment while he took it all in.

It was his fault. Whatever it was, it was his fault.

Elizaveta took a card from the taller man and he left. They heard the sound of the car engine fading out as they drove away. She turned back to the teenager, who was trying his best to stop his tears. Roderich was at his side again, rubbing his back while he sobbed uncontrollably. Elizaveta walked to his bedroom, picking up his school bag and trying her best to find his books and some clothes. Anything he’d want for the time being. She saw a small framed picture, the glass shattered, laying on his dresser. It was him as a baby, with a very similar-looking boy, both sitting on an older man’s lap. The frame had _Grandpa_ written on it in faded marker. She gently placed it in the bag between a couple shirts after shaking the loose glass from it.

She came back out to the living room, where Feliciano’s cries had died down enough for him to breathe a little easier. She had never seen someone look so miserable before.

Roderich caught her eye and he gently stood the teenager up, walking him to the door. Feliciano didn’t fight it in the slightest bit. He just stumbled through the door and back to the car, laying down in the back, suddenly exhausted. Elizaveta placed the bag near her feet as they got in the car and began to drive back away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Passenger Seat" by Death Cab for Cutie**
> 
> _I roll the window down_   
>  _And then begin to breathe in_   
>  _The darkest country road_   
>  _And the strong scent of evergreen_   
>  _From the passenger seat as you are driving me home_   
>  _Then looking upwards_   
>  _I strain my eyes and try_   
>  _To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites_


	4. Flowers For a Ghost

The car ride was somber at best. It broke Elizaveta’s heart every time she heard one of Feliciano’s strangled sobs. They were all pretty upset, though nothing was as bad compared to Feliciano.

They pulled back into their home, the sky darkening as they left the car. Roderich was helping the teenager while Elizaveta carried the backpack, hoping she packed it sufficiently because there was no way she was having Feli go back into that house.

They entered their home, Feliciano’s limping making the only sound as his boot echoed against the hardwood floors. Roderich helped him to his room while Elizaveta stood in the doorway, saddened for the poor boy. She sighed and sat the bag on the couch of their living room before she disappeared into the office.

Roderich sat with Feliciano on the guest bed, trying his best to console the suffering boy. He was a sobbing mess and trying so hard not to cry, failing obviously and wiping his wet cheeks with his palms. The tears wouldn’t stop and all the crying was making his throat sore and dry and he almost felt like he was drowning. His eyes burned considerably and he was surprised to feel a soft tissue wiping his tears, Roderich unable to watch him rub his own eyes anymore. When Feli rubbed his eyes, he had to wipe the tears off on his pants, and his lap had darkened wet spots. It broke Roderich’s heart to see.

The sobs radiated to the office, where Elizaveta sat behind the desk and on her old laptop. It buzzed and whirled as she clicked around, trying to find some kind of family of Feliciano’s to contact. She stumbled upon the young Italian’s Facebook page, recognizing his bright, happy face on the profile. After a few clicks she found his brother, recognizing his name from Feliciano’s stories and his face, which was astoundingly similar to his younger brother’s.

She mumbled to herself as she composed a message and sent it, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her boundaries. Afterward she stepped out to check on the young teenager, who was leaning on her husband and crying into his shoulder while the older man patted his back awkwardly.

She sat on the other side of Feliciano and hugged him, kissing the back of his head. And he cried even harder, mad at himself for wishing these were his parents and for forgetting his late parents for that brief second.

They hushed him and hugged him until he was calm enough to stop his crying, his eyes felt heavy and hot and his cheeks were almost raw from all the wiping. They retreated to the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, where they sat on the couches and gave the poor boy some water after he mumbled about being thirsty. Roderich stood up, announcing he would go order pizza and they would watch some movies to brighten the mood. Feliciano smiled lightly at the thought of getting dinner, which was never definite at his home. He had loved movies too, particularly Disney princess movies, no matter how girly it was.

Elizaveta happened to have a collection of said movies, and she and the boy picked out a few to watch and began on _Beauty and the Beast_ as Roderich returned to them. They would do anything to keep him from crying again, and tonight was the start of it.

Feliciano yawned half-way through the movie, having already eaten the pizza they ordered and now growing tired from the events of the day. He tried his best to stay awake, falling asleep against Elizaveta, who had been stroking his hair the entire time in a deceitfully calming manner.

Elizaveta and Roderich shared a look, both happy to see the boy asleep. Roderich stood up and left for the guest room, returning with a pillow and comforter. They draped it around their ward and watched him sleep for a few minutes before they got comfy on the other couch, not ready at all to leave him just yet.

* * *

Monday came and Ludwig was surprised to see his good friend was still absent. Feliciano wasn’t often absent, though when he was he almost always returned with some kind of small bruise he thought he had hidden beneath a sleeve or shirt. It was always assumed he got in fights a lot—as in, was a punching bag and too passive to fight back. If he was sick or even hurt on Friday, he would have had the entire weekend to recover. What was happening?

He hated that the smaller teen didn’t have a cell phone and he claimed not to have a house phone. Their only contact was through social media, and even then it was very limited (Feliciano once slipped up, mentioning he didn’t have a computer and only got to use one at libraries or friends’ houses).

It was noon and lunch was underway. Ludwig was walking to the cafeteria when he stopped by the front office, immediately recognizing the stuffy Austrian Feliciano worked for, who was speaking to a secretary. He had to know something—he was Feliciano’s boss! The tall man was walking out the doors and through the parking lot when Ludwig ran through the doors and after him, calling out his name.

Roderich stopped, turning around to see the muscular blonde. “Oh, Ludwig,” he flatly greeted. “What is it? The shop is closed today if—”

“Where’s Feliciano?”

There was a heated silence. It was obvious the Austrian was hiding something, his lips pursed in thought.

“He’s been absent and I’m getting worried,” Ludwig admitted, blushing a bit. He was very awkward when it came to emotions and talking about feelings.

Roderich stood there, recalling all the times the German would visit his employee at work or bring him lunch on weekends (always consisting of potatoes or wurst, which Feli never denied despite his near-constant pasta cravings). “You’re close with Feliciano, correct?”

Ludwig paused, worried. “Ja, we’re close.”

“If I tell you this, you need to keep it to yourself, okay? Definitely no telling that idiot brother of yours.”

He cringed, remembering how Gilbert used to follow him to the flower shop and harass both Roderich and Elizaveta. It calmed down when he left for college, but the scars remained. “Don’t worry about that _dummkopf_.”

Roderich took a deep breath before telling the teenager what had happened—the apparent fight and the closely following death of his parents. How the boy had been staying with them temporarily since his closest relative was in Rome and his brother was harder to find than a speck of dust. He briefly mentioned the beginning process of having to plan a funeral for people he didn’t even know and how Feliciano refused to _not_ help, wanting to make sure it was worthy. He even called his grandpa in Rome and spoke in rushed Italian about it.

Ludwig paled, shocked to hear so much happened in so little time. It surprised Roderich when he followed him deeper into the parking lot, calling to him, “I’m going to see Feliciano.”

“It’s the middle of the school day!” Roderich replied, incredulous.

“This is more important. It’s senior year, I can take a half-day.”

And so the German followed the Austrian on the road and through the streets until they got back to the house in the nice, neatly-trimmed neighborhood. This was definitely his home.

Ludwig followed him inside, shocked to see Feliciano sitting on the couch with Elizaveta to his side, turned with his head facing away while she dabbed alcohol to the stitched gash in the back of his skull. The light brown hair around his cut was darker, though it was hard to tell if it was from the alcohol or seeping blood. She finished up, re-bandaging it. Roderich cleared his throat and the two turned, surprised to see the visitor.

“Luddy!” the happy Italian cried. He stumbled over his broken toes on his way to hug his missed friend. “How are you?”

“ _Scheiße_ , Feliciano!” He gently hugged back, embarrassed to show affection and afraid to hurt the damaged boy. “Are you okay? Who did this? _I’ll destroy them_.”

The Italian paused, frowning. “I don’t know. It just happened.” His voice was so flat and dead it was scary.

Elizaveta watched them curiously. “Feli, dear, why don’t you two go to your room? Go be teenagers.”

“Yes, Miss _Hungary_ ,” Feliciano chirped back. He happily grabbed his friend’s hands and pulled him (slowly) to his guest room. Meanwhile she pulled her husband aside and into the office, showing him the Facebook messages between her and Lovino Vargas.

She had been conversing with him since the day before, finally making contact. She had told him of what happened and he sent a few short messages back, consisting of some broken English, swear words directed at no one, and a promise to get a train ticket back to town to do what was right and plan the funeral.

“You found him,” the Austrian mused. “Italy should be happy to have his brother back.”

“He needs something good to happen,” she said back somberly. “Ludwig was a nice touch, he brightened up so quickly!”

Inside Feliciano’s room he was sitting with Ludwig on his bed, chirping about how soft the sheets were and how much he missed seeing his friend during the day.

“I was worried when you weren’t in school,” Ludwig mumbled, looking away. “I was afraid something bad had happened. You tend to come back with bruises….” He trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to explain his worry without sounding too girlish.

“Well, I’m fine,” Feliciano said, unusually happy for someone with such poor luck. It never ceased to amaze Ludwig how easily this kid could pick himself up after being knocked down. Of course, that made it amusing how easily he was scared. Gilbert snuck up on him in the flower shop one day, yelling _surprise!_ , causing Feliciano to run screaming for Ludwig to help protect him. Man, Gilbert’s a dick.

Ludwig’s ears perked when he heard the familiar sound of a car engine. “Are you expecting company?”

Feliciano tilted his head, confusion written on his face. “No. Why?”

“I hear a car,” he mumbled. Elizaveta knocked on his door right before opening it a sliver, announcing there was someone here to see Feliciano.

And Feliciano panicked. _Someone was here to see him and that couldn’t be good because Ludwig was the only visitor and he worried so much and before that he was expecting his parents but got the cops instead and this couldn’t be good he was going to lose his bosses and be put in a boys’ home and they would pick on him and he would be so alone—_

“Where is he?” the voice cut through Feliciano’s thoughts. He calmed down immediately when the door opened wider and his brother stepped in, taking in the sight. “There you are.”

Feliciano smiled, ready to cry tears of happiness this time. “ _Fratello_!” He cringed, stepping on his broken toes again, but hurried the few feet to his brother anyway. The bruise on his collar hurt as he pressed into Lovino so hard their ribs smashed together. For once, Lovino hugged back.

They separated and Lovino glared at Ludwig when he helped his brother back to the bed. “I swear to fucking god, if I find out you did this to him—”

“No, _fratello_!” Feliciano quickly interjected. “This is the first time I’ve seen Luddy since… it happened.”

“Then who did it, huh? Whose face do I have to smash for hurting you?”

The hesitation in his brother’s voice before he stuttered, “J-just some group of guys I ran into,” told Lovino all he needed to know.

His face softened to an expression extremely rare for the irritable Italian. “Was it… bad?”

Feliciano gave him a defeated look, replying in murmured Italian. He didn’t want anyone else to understand what they were saying,

Lovino’s face was outraged and his anger came through in his voice. Whatever he was saying was in absolute shock. Ludwig had no idea they were speaking of their parents—Lovino’s outrage directed at how bad it went.

_“They’ve never been so bad that we needed stitches!”_

The German regretted never learning Italian or even Spanish. He’d have spent all his free time studying it if he knew it could ever help him to understand his friend when he needed it.

Ludwig watched as the brothers argued in Italian, amazed either could speak two languages yet forget to tie their shoes in the morning. They were an enigma, the Vargas brothers. It sounded like Lovino was actually _mad_ at his brother, though Ludwig wrote it off as being mad he didn’t find out sooner.

Roderich poked his head in the room, announcing it was time for late lunch. Afterward he would pull Lovino aside to help arrange the funeral, given he was much calmer than his brother was about their parents dying. Ludwig took the hint and sat with Feliciano in his room for hours, distracting him, growing more curious about the young Italian.

“So, Feliciano,” he began, crossing his legs on the edge of the bed. “You never told me why you can speak fluent Italian. You always said you could but this is the first time I’ve heard it.”

“ _Mio padre_ wasn’t very good at English,” he simply replied. Germany paled, surprised he could ask something so personal given that it was obvious his friend had to have come from an Italian family.

“ _Gott_ , I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay.” Those words were so eerily hollow.

* * *

The day dragged on and the night fell upon them before they could catch the last glimpse of day. The adults had spent hours in the office, finalizing their quick funeral plans. The family was small, broken up mostly due to a falling out between the Vargas parents and their immediate family. Mama was shamed for being a teen mom and papa was shamed for knocking up jailbait and abandoning his home in Italy. The funeral would consist of mostly family… which was about three people. Lovino sighed, putting his head in his hands at the prospect of it all.

“Are you okay?” Elizaveta asked gently.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he groaned. “It’s Feli who’s upset. I never gave a shit about our parents but for some reason he won’t let the bastards go.”

“Lovino!” Roderich chided. “They just died _Friday_!”

“That’s not what I mean,” he grumbled. “We were _blessed_ with the worst parents of all time and Feli hates when anyone badmouths the bastards. They forgot our birthday a few years straight and _he_ fucking apologized for it!”

He grumbled more complaints in low Italian, lost on their ears. They could only really make out a few casual _bastards_ every other sentence.

They agreed to get back to planning in the morning and exited the office. They had offered Lovino their other guest room, but he turned it down saying he’d rather share with his brother. Elizaveta thought that had to be the sweetest thing the Italian had ever said.

Lovino stepped out on the back porch for a moment, fingering his pockets trying to catch the corner of his cigarette box. He stopped, hearing frustrated German being yelled. On the other end of the porch stood Ludwig, who was on his phone. He hung up, angrily pocketing the device and stumbling when he noticed the elder Italian.

“The fuck was that about? Did someone steal your potato, you damn potato-eater?”

“Very funny, Lovino.” He growled. Taking a breath he sat down in a weathered patio chair, complete with chipping white paint. He calmed down and looked out into the sky. “Mein _vatti_ was yelling at me for skipping school and not coming home.”

“Oh, the big bad German skipped school now.”

“I spent the entire day here when I heard about your brother.”

Lovino stopped and dropped his cigarettes. The German bastard got himself in trouble because of Feli? The guy who was never late to anything ditched school just to see his brother?

He picked his cigs up, finding his near-empty lighter and taking a drag. “You’re alright… for a German.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes at the off-handed insult. He got back up, went inside, and began his farewells to Feliciano. Elizaveta had thanked him for coming and cheering up their sad Italian, then reminded him to keep in contact.

Inside Feliciano had fallen asleep in his bed, tired from the pain medicine Roderich was making him take until his stitches were to come out. Lovino watched him from the doorway, a saddened frown on his typically-angry face. He was conflicted how to feel, in all honesty. He was pissed his parents could cause this much damage, he was ironically sad his parents were dead (though not to the same extent as his brother); he was angry to see Ludwig but thankful he could make his _fratello_ so happy. He didn’t know if he should scream or cry. So instead he slipped his pants off and got into bed as gently as he could, for once not wanting to wake his brother. He fell asleep with a new worry growing in his chest:

What’s going to happen to Feliciano?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Flowers For a Ghost" by Thriving Ivory**
> 
> _Don't ever say goodbye_   
>  _See my head aches from all this thinkin'_   
>  _Feels like a ship God, God knows I'm sinkin'_   
>  _Wonder what you do and where it is you stay_   
>  _These questions like a whirlwind, they carry me away_   
>  _Who will bring me flowers when it's over_   
>  _And who will give me comfort when it's cold_   
>  _Who will I belong to when the day just won't give in_   
>  _And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins_


	5. Colly Strings

Feliciano was happy to see his grandpa, who had just arrived from his incoming flight from Rome. Roderich had gone to pick him up from the airport while Feliciano and Lovino stayed with Elizaveta at the house. Lovino grumbled about how much his rental car was going to cost by the end of this, yet wouldn’t listen to Feliciano when he said he didn’t have to stay so long after the funeral.

Grandpa entered the house, followed by an irritated Austrian, carrying all of the elder’s bags. The Italian brothers immediately flocked to their grandfather, hugging and cheek-kissing while muttering greetings and sorrows in Italian.

“My little Feliciano, you’ve gotten so big,” he said lightly pinching his grandson’s soft cheek carefully, noting the random bandages and bruises. He internally sighed at the sight. “And Lovino, you’re even taller than last time! My grandbabies really are growing up!”

Lovino narrowed his eyes. “I’m twenty-two, Nonno. I _am_ grown!”

The elder chuckled, always enjoying getting a rise out of his angry grandchild. He stayed with the boys, catching up, while Elizaveta and Roderich watched from the kitchen. It hit them that this was their only family—those three seemed to only have each other.

Lovino turned to his grandfather, muttering that the funeral will be Friday and how Roderich already offered him to stay there with them until he had to leave again. Feliciano visibly saddened at the reminder of the funeral and his _nonno_ leaving.

A few hours later it was time for Feliciano’s newfound, and highly loved, siesta. Lovino had taken up the act years prior, though Feliciano couldn’t due to always being at school, work, or home (where he would be promptly yelled at for wasting time napping when it was daylight out). The youngest Italian limped to his room, excusing himself as he did so. The bed was unmade from when he and Lovino woke up earlier that day and his toes were aching along with his head, so he took the medicine Roderich left for him and curled up as much as he could, given the bruises hurt like a bitch.

Lovino peaked in the room, seeing his brother was already fast asleep. He quietly closed the door and joined the adults in the office, where Elizaveta and Roderich had been filling in the old man on what had happened recently.

“…just showed up in the shop, bleeding,” Roderich was saying. “It was his day off. We had to take him to the hospital afterward and we didn’t know his address, so we kept him here to rest.”

Elizaveta nodded, tearing up at the recent memory. “We took him back home the next day and the police came… informing us of what had happened.”

Lovino cringed, thinking of the wreck of a house they had. Christ, and Feliciano let them see the inside of it, too? _And_ the police saw? Good god, how haven’t they taken Feliciano away yet?

Grandpa sighed, leaning into his folded hands. “And… how did they… how did my _figlio_ die?”

Roderich sighed, quietly telling the Italian man of when he went to the police station and spoke about the Vargas’s deaths and the arrangements to be made regarding Feliciano, who was a minor and, now, an orphan. He recalled the past couple days of running around and filling out paperwork and talking to officials about what would be done. His hair was ready to go white at all the unanticipated stress.

And by the door Lovino stood quietly, wanting to hear, wanting to know what they’ll have to do regarding his brother. He had been with him most of the time he was there and didn’t even know how his parents died. He gasped lightly when Roderich finally announced it had been a car accident.

They had been driving drunk and drove into a ravine. They didn’t hurt anyone else, which Lovino was thankful for, but they were still dead.

“The coroner report,” Roderich interrupted his thoughts. “Read that they were over the legal limit. Your… your son was dangerously so. They said it would have been quick. Very little… suffering… They probably slept through it…”

Lovino didn’t know what came over him. He felt so much in this moment. He was angry they got to die quickly, painlessly, while all they did was fill his and Feliciano’s own lives with suffering. He was also relieved they didn’t suffer through it—they were his parents and they were once loving. Those happier days flooded back to him, reminding him of the Christmas he and Feliciano got their first bikes or the birthday they all went to the circus. Why was it getting hard to remember why he hated them?

He looked straight at the ceiling, near the lighting, trying to will away the tears threatening to spill over. No. he couldn’t break down, not over _them_ and not _here._ If his papà was there he’d—

 __“Lovino, honey, are you okay?” That gentle voice of Elizaveta brought him back down to earth. He looked at her through his tear-muddled eyes and realized how warm his face felt. He didn’t know if he was blushing from embarrassment or if he was showing signs of how upset he was.

She reached over to him, lightly pulling him in for a hug. He stood awkwardly as she embraced him. Memories flooded back to when he was five and fell off the swing at the park, how his mamma had hugged him until he stopped his crying.

That was the final straw before he began crying, much like his brother would whenever their parents were mentioned. He held tightly onto her, burying his head in her shoulder. Nonno stood and joined them, holding onto Lovino and muttering things that had to have been Italian.

The next room over, Feliciano laid awake in bed, eyes wide open, shocked to hear his brother breaking down. Even Lovino was shaken by this. It took all he could to not make noise as he sobbed into his own pillow, trying so hard to fall back asleep.

* * *

Feliciano missed over a week of school following his parents’ deaths. It was the day of the funeral and he tried to distract himself with thoughts of what homework he’d have or how much time it’ll take to make up. His thought strayed to the looks he would inevitably receive, the pitiful looks and the condolences he didn’t want.

“Hey, _fratello_ , get your shoes on. We have to go soon.”

Feliciano glanced up at his brother, who was in the doorway, fiddling with his black tie. The younger painstakingly bent down to get the black leather shoes Roderich was loaning him, pulling them from under the bed. He cringed while trying to put them on until Lovino scoffed, bending down to do it for him.

“You’re seventeen and you still need help putting shoes on. Lazy bastard.” Feliciano giggled, happy his brother was pretending they weren’t about to head to a funeral. It was easier to pretend when everyone else did it with him.

They then trudged to the living room, where Ludwig had been waiting with their grandfather. He was the exact person Feliciano needed, strong and safe and _there_. He actually skipped school for the funeral. As Feliciano would find out, quite a few of his friends skipped school to show support and attend the small ceremony.

They drove in silence until they reached the church. The rest of the day dragged on, heavy and ethereal. Feliciano did his best to hide his receding limp and was thankful he didn’t look too banged up anymore. Alfred and Matthew approached him with gentle hugs and in the background he could faintly hear the Spanish accent of Antonio’s mixing with Lovino’s own words.

Antonio was Lovino’s roommate, who had driven down the few hours to be there for them. The church was filled with mostly friends of the brothers, and only a few actual family members who were distant.

The service went on and Lovino and Feliciano sat together with their nonno, all crying and sobbing but trying their best to keep it tame (with no such luck). They moved on to the church grounds where the matching caskets were being lowered into the ground in side-by-side plots. In his peripheral vision Feliciano could swear he saw Antonio holding onto Lovino’s hand.

Ludwig stood by the young Italian, giving in and hugging him while he quietly watched the Vargas parents lowered down. Feliciano managed to stay quiet as they were buried and left his life forever. The funeral faded out and they all went home. Matthew and Alfred gave Feliciano and Lovino goodbye hugs and sympathetic looks before they walked away. Antonio mumbled some words to Lovino and joined him in going back to Roderich’s home.

Feliciano couldn’t sleep that night. He was alone in his bed for the first time in a week; Lovino opting to sleep on the couch (where Antonio was staying, mooching for the night) and Nonno was in the other guest room. It was late and everyone would be far asleep by now. He absentmindedly rubbed his eyes, tears completely dried up.

He sat for a moment, thinking of how he would spend the next few hours if he couldn’t sleep. It was maddening to think he was so incredibly exhausted, yet couldn’t _sleep._ Then he remembered the medicine. It always made him out of it, and his head _was_ getting sore from all his movement against the pillow.

So Feliciano took the bottle, struggling momentarily with the child safety in the dark before he finally got to the prize inside. As he expected it made him groggy and he finally passed out against the sheets, wishing he could sleep forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Colly Strings" by Manchester Orchestra**
> 
>  
> 
> _Your bourbon brown that can burn my eyes,_  
>  _I lost your presence underneath the bridge._  
>  _Lock the door, let’s talk it out._  
>  _Against the wall, hands on my mouth_  
>  _Could this be it, is it really over now?_  
>  _Nine to eleven, you’re getting weak._  
>  _The tile is cold, I can barely speak._  
>  _And I think she’s gone but I’ll be sure for safety’s keeping._  
>  _Besides, don’t release me until it’s over_  
>  _And besides, you can’t believe without bleeding._  
>  _…And besides, you can’t believe without bleeding._


	6. It's Not the Fall That Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Slight pain reliever abuse, Confused Self-loathing Italy**

The first day back at school was one of the hardest things Feliciano had to do after his parents passed. His limp was getting better—that is to say, he was better at hiding it. He convinced Elizaveta, after hours of worrying about how he’d be treated at school, to let him go without the ugly boot they were so adamant about him wearing. The one other occasion for not wearing it was the funeral.

Feliciano got to his first class, sitting in his usual seat. His classmates glanced at him with a newfound sadness in their eyes rather than the usual blank looks or cold stares when he’d get yelled at for being late or had forgotten his homework (when his parents tore it up in a drunken rage, that is).

No. No crying, not in first period, Feliciano! You have all day to go and it’s a bad start to break down in the _first_ class!

Their teacher walked into the room, carrying a stack of papers along with his morning coffee. Feliciano followed him to his desk, ready to be yelled at for his long absence. He no doubt missed some important work, given they had just started reading Shakespeare and had been warned of an essay to be due once it was finished.

“Um, s-sir?” he stuttered, knowing full-well that this teacher hated him and losing school time over a hospitalization and becoming an orphan wouldn’t sway the man from his hatred. “I missed school since Friday before last and I was, uh, wondering what work I had to make up…”

The man glanced from his papers, looking Feliciano over before looking back down. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Was there no homework assigned all week?” he questioned.

“No, there was quite a bit of reading from _Hamlet_ and study packets. But you have nothing. Go sit back down.”

The Italian stared at him, worry growing. Was this some trick to fail him for missing so much? “I don’t understand…”

The teacher paused, looking back to Feli. “You get a pass.” Lowly, as not to be heard by the other students, he added, “I lost my mother when I was your age. I couldn’t focus on anything for weeks. You don’t worry about the homework, Feliciano.”

He was stunned. He becomes an orphan and suddenly his lit teacher, who _hated_ him, was understanding?

He blinked away his surprise and found his seat again. The class was spent deep in thought about the life he would have now that his parents weren’t there. It was like a game of how upset he could get without crying in class. A sick game, but he couldn’t help that it was _all_ he could think about.

Art class followed quickly and he was greeted by a few classmates he usually never talked to. People were being so nice to him and that was how he knew word got around. The easels were still out and he sat at his usual one. The blonde twins soon joined him, sitting on either side of him while they explained they had only been painting still-life’s in class with the occasional homework assignment in their sketchbooks.

The elderly teacher came up to him, quietly telling him he could work on his last painting instead of catching up on the ones everyone else had been doing. This was an issue, since he had no reference, so he opted instead to paint over his last piece and catch up. Their new still-life had no fruit, consisting of glass bottles and candlesticks. He worked around his previously painted oranges and apples and fit the new items in around them.

Art was his one release. It was shocking when the bell rang and he realized he had been so hyper-focused on his painting of the empty wine bottles in the middle of the room that he didn’t see everyone else pack up and put their canvases on the drying racks. He got up to put his own supplies away when his teacher stopped him.

“Why don’t you stay and work on your painting?”

“But I have math to get to—”

“I’ll call your teacher. I have a planning period and I could use the company.”

Was the world spiraling into the sun? Is it normal for people to be so outrageously nice to mourning teenagers? First his literature teacher and now the art teacher? Feliciano wasn’t used to such random kindness, kindness that felt alien to him all at once, but he stayed. Painting was the first thing he’s done that actually made him feel better. When he was in the act he was relaxed and focused on being productive, and even when he came back to the real world he felt a strange calmness.

The painting was done by fourth period and it was the best piece he had done all year.

His toes were growing sore, the painkillers from the morning finally worn off. The walking through the halls and around the stairs didn’t help it either. He warded his limp off by walking on his heel, though the stiffness in his foot caused further pain. Ludwig looked up, smiling lightly when Feli entered the room and sat next to him.

“Hey, Luddy,” he chirped.

“Hello, Feliciano. How is your first day back?”

Feliciano paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s weird. All my teachers are being so nice to me. I got a pass to not read _Hamlet_ and I got to skip math to paint. It’s unreal.”

Ludwig nodded, not surprised at all. The school was abuzz with the information once it got out. The death of the Vargas parents had been mentioned on a local news site and it grew rampant when the youngest Vargas didn’t come to school. Of course, most people were polite enough not to make a big deal of it. The teachers, though, felt the need to be incredibly understanding since his parents had been at the school the day of their death. It was surreal for everyone, involved or not. Sweet Feliciano was an orphan.

Class ended and Feliciano went to his locker, trying to find something worth taking home to do. An old sketchbook sat beneath some heavy textbooks and he tugged it out and placed it gingerly into his backpack.

“Feli!”

He turned, surprised to see Sadik and Heracules walking toward him. Sadik was waving at him, which was weird since he never acknowledged anyone below _Senior_ status before.

“We heard about your parents. Sorry, man.”

Something stabbed at Feliciano’s stomach.

The gentle voice of the Greek boy overpowered the Turkish idiot. “Our condolences.” The two glared at one another and Feliciano weakly smiled at them before turning away to make his escape.

He bumped past random people who turned to glare but softened as soon as they saw it was him, _poor little orphan Feli_. Some people tried to stop him to pass on their sorrow or to try to act like they understand what he’s going through, as if they weren’t making fun of him and laughing at him just weeks before. He rushed past them, losing patience at the stops, breaking free of the school and out the front doors. Roderich said he would pick him up, so he waited outside on a bench by the carpool lane.

He was flooded with relief when he saw Roderich’s car pull up, which he gladly hopped in. He was asked about his day and classes but Feliciano just said, “It was fine.”

They got back home and Lovino stood with Nonno in the kitchen, making Italian food together while Elizaveta sat in the living room mending assorted torn clothing.

“Don’t eat until dinner, bastard,” Lovino called over his shoulder. “We’re making pasta.”

Feliciano perked up like a puppy and went happily to his room, unloading his light backpack on the small desk. Today was Nonno’s last day before he had to catch a flight back to Rome, and Lovino would no doubt have to go back to his own home. Antonio insisted he could go back alone and give Lovino more time with his brother, but Lovino for some reason wouldn’t let Antonio leave his side.

Feliciano figured he was cheap and wanted to get rid of the damn rental car and share a ride with the Spaniard back rather than hunting down train tickets in addition to his transportation problems.

Dinner came around and the six of them crowded around the table and ate the first real dinner they had had since before the funeral. It had been take-out and microwaveable food before now. As dinner came to a close, Antonio nudged Lovino, who begrudgingly called everyone to attention.

“I’ve, uh…” he nervously started. “…I’ve got some news.”

Antonio took this as his cue. “I asked Lovi to marry me and he said yes!”

Elizaveta clapped and cheerfully congratulated them, telling them how cute they were together. Nonno was teasing Lovino, saying he _knew_ there was a good reason why Lovino never had any girlfriends growing up. On the other end of the table Roderich stared at them blankly, muttering that he didn’t even know Lovino was seeing someone, let alone engaged, and let alone _to a guy._

The joy of the moment was overwhelming and Feliciano joined in on the celebrations. Once they left the table, Antonio boldly holding Lovino’s hand, Feliciano retreated back to his room. His room was dark and almost cold. The happiness faded quickly and he sat on the edge of the bed, happy for his brother, yet sad that Lovino had felt the need to hide it.

It was assumed Lovino was closeted because of how harsh their parents were.

And now Feliciano was thinking of his dead parents and he was sad once more. Today had been a hard day at school, being treated so differently only made him think about his parents more. Yet he knew if he was treated the same he wouldn’t be able to work, too caught up in the mourning process. There was no middle-ground for him to rest and he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

The soft pillow met his cheek as he laid down to try to sleep off the foreboding feelings swelling inside his chest. Time passed and he was, once again, unable to sleep. Instead he got up, wandering over to the dresser to take some pain medicine for his aching foot. This night the medicine did nothing to help him sleep, instead taking away one of the few distractions he had from his mourning.

He limped out of his room, hoping to find some distraction from everything. The door to the second guest room was ajar, light spilling out of the slender crack. It drew him in and he entered the room to find his grandfather finishing up a prayer, kneeling by the bed with clasped hands and closed eyes. He finished up and smiled when he opened his eyes to see his young grandson.

“Feliciano,” he murmured. “Come here.” He reached out to the young man, gently petting his head as he sat down with him on the bed. “Feli, I know you’re having a tough time right now… but I want you to know me and your brother are here for you. We always have been and we always will be. I know it’s not easy to lose your parents at such a young age, but it’ll get better. And try not to look back on your parents like they were monsters. I know they were… _strongly_ disciplining you boys… but they—”

 “You knew?”

 His grandfather faltered.

“You knew they were… they did this?”

“Si, I did. I didn’t know how bad it was until your brother started yelling about it the other day after the funeral. I knew they believed in such practices as spanking, but I had no idea they… they would go farther than that. If I had known your bruises weren’t because you were just clumsy I would have come sooner and done something. Believe me, Feli. I would have tried.”

“You would have stopped them? But… why?”

The elder’s face fell and he stared at Feliciano with the greatest sadness in his eyes. He tried his best to make his grandson understand, seeming to find no words to fit. “Because you didn’t deserve any of it, and neither did your brother. I admit, you got it worse… But you didn’t deserve it. You beat _bad children_ as _punishment_ , to teach them. Your parents, rest them, took it too far.”

He felt numb but it wasn’t from his slight abuse of the painkillers. Maybe it was because he was so tired or because he was so worn from the past week, but Feliciano found himself unable to understand why his nonno was being so apologetic. Bad kids were beaten, that’s how it was. Feliciano was bad, so his parents did what they had to. Or was he good and punished? It hurt too much to think about the past, so he didn’t. He just sat there and accepted his parents weren’t beating him—it was discipline, as Nonno said.

That was it. Bad kids are disciplined. So, Feliciano was bad. And that means he _had_ to be punished… right?

“Grandpa…” Feliciano whispered, having trouble finding his voice. “I… I don’t understand… You said what they did was wrong, and it felt wrong… So why do I miss them? Lovi… Lovi used to scream he hated them but he cried over them, too… Why do I miss it when they hit me?” He hiccupped and wiped away the stray tears that slid down his cheek.

Nonno sniffled and hugged Feliciano tightly and muttered into his hair, “Because they were your parents.”

They sat embraced for a while until Feliciano fell asleep. Nonno tucked him in and brushed his hair out of his face lightly before tip-toeing out to the living room, watching his other grandson with a small smile. Lovino was curled on the couch with Antonio, as expected. He was really going to miss his grandchildren.

The next day Feliciano woke with a start, instantly knowing he was in trouble. He never naturally woke up on a school day, it always required some kind of alarm or broken bottle being thrown. He rushed up, stumbling over his feet until he was out of the guest room and in the living room. His grandfather greeted him with a small smile from the couch, where he had been conversing with Lovino.

“G-grandpa!” he stuttered.

“ _Italy_!” Nonno cheerfully replied.

“I… what?”

Elizaveta lightly bopped him on the head as she skirted out of the kitchen with a world history book in her hands. “I told your grandfather about our studying. We should start again, with you missing so much school and all. You should have _Germany_ come over and study as well!”

“Ger— _Ludwig_?”

“I get to be _Spain_!” Antonio piped up. “I like this game, it’s fun! Isn’t that right, my little _South Italy_?”

Lovino growled at him, “Shut it, jerk bastard.”

Today was off to a very confusing start. “Elizaveta,” Feliciano asked, “Why didn’t anyone wake me for school? It’s Tuesday. I have work to—”

“Your grandfather leaves today, I think that constitutes a day at home to say goodbye.”

He smiled faintly, glad to be able to see his family off. “What about studying? Why is Lovi _Italy_?”

Elizaveta sat down with Feliciano and opened the textbook. “He’s _South_ Italy. You’re _North_ Italy. Your class syllabus said you would be going over the World Wars and that includes the involvement of Italy, though there’s differences. We’ll also briefly go over _Grandpa Rome’s_ involvement in modern Italy.”

Nonno chuckled at his new nickname. He was content with it all, especially seeing Lovino and Feliciano so distracted right now. It was good to see them not focusing on the deaths. He loved seeing his grandsons seemingly okay in this moment. Feliciano was so cute with his head in that history book, and admittedly, Lovino was adorable when he was trying to act like he didn’t like it when Antonio held his hand, though his blush gave him away.

Around four o’clock Roderich arrived home early from work. The group all jammed into his car, crushed against each other with Lovino flustered to have to sit in Antonio’s lap due to the lacking seats. Feliciano’s head and toes and shoulder and— _god_ —everything hurt, but he endured it. He didn’t want to be a burden on everyone else. They were all crammed in there, it wouldn’t help to whine.

When you cry, you’re given something to cry about.

They reached the airport and they helped Nonno with his bags and said their teary-but-composed goodbyes. The car ride back to the Edelstein home was somber and slow. Feliciano headed straight to bed, back to his painkillers, despite the time being barely six. He laid in bed silently for a while, feigning sleep when someone opened the door and undoubtedly checked him out. The person left again and he strained his ears to listen when he heard quiet talking outside the door.

The words were too soft, yet they beckoned him to listen. Feliciano fell asleep numb, only partially from the medicine, with a background wall of anxiety waiting for the numbness to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"It's Not the Fall That Hurts" by The Caesars**
> 
> _Stumblin' with every step I take_   
>  _And it seems I can't get a grip_   
>  _I'm soon gonna slip_   
>  _An then I look down_   
>  _I see that the ground_   
>  _Is closening fast again_   
>  _And then **boom**_


	7. Serpents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self-harm, Implied Disassociation**

It didn’t take long for Ludwig to see there was a change in his little Italian friend. Feliciano was usually so cheery and chirpy, always so hungry and mooching whenever he had food. It was understandable that he would act differently after losing his parents, though it still worried the German.

Feliciano would come into class in a haze most days, eyes unfocused and ears deaf. He would smile and greet Ludwig and promptly continue on with acting like he wasn’t there. He would open books and stare at random pages without reading or take out notebooks and just scribble the same circle over and over. There were no playful or bored doodles anymore, just dark lines and nonsense.

He had completely checked out and the teachers all allowed it.

It was known by the whole school what had happened and Ludwig was starting to see how damaging it really was to let Feliciano go to class but not give him work. He wasn’t “working through things” but basking in the thoughts and memories of their deaths. Ludwig tried speaking privately to a couple of his teachers, who he also had for higher-level classes, but they all gave the same excuses about not being able to divulge another student’s confidential personal business or some nonsense about giving him time to heal.

It sounded logical, but not for Feliciano. Feliciano couldn’t be given that much time alone with himself, Ludwig knew him too well; he knew the Italian would think himself numb and let it take over him. He had anxiety issues that he confided to Ludwig about when they met. He admitted to being nervous around new people and his small blind fear they might just be mean and waiting to attack.

Ludwig never did understand the fear, but fears aren’t meant to be logical.

It had been two weeks since the funeral and Feliciano showed no signs of recovering. His bruises from the apparent attack had all faded and the stitches in his head were taken out already. His limp was getting better though Ludwig didn’t know if his toes were healing or if he was just used to the pain.

It didn’t help that Lovino and Antonio had left earlier that week to go back home. Since they left it got worse. Feliciano was either numb or emotional and Ludwig didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to pretend nothing happened and let Feliciano pretend with him? Was he supposed to ask his friend how he was holding up and risk bringing back more pain? Things wouldn’t be so hard if his parents weren’t dead. If they were horrible people this would be so much easier… wouldn’t it?

The bell rang and Ludwig snapped out of his thoughts. He was surprised to see Feliciano was already out the door and hurrying out of school. It was jarring to see the apathetic little Italian suddenly so quick.

It was weird seeing him so depressed.

* * *

Feliciano sat quietly at the bench by the carpool lane, waiting for Elizaveta to pick him up. He was still on “paid leave” from the flower shop with the excuse that Roderich didn’t want him stressing himself out any more than he already was. His caretakers had to return to work (though Roderich had been there on odd hours during the whole ordeal). Elizaveta still promised to leave work to get him from school, apologetically telling him she’d have to go back afterwards.

The small car pulled up and he jumped in with his lighter-than-air backpack. The woman smiled at him, asking how his day was, disappointed to get the same answer: “It was fine.”

They continued to drive in silence for a few minutes until she remembered he would be alone for the first time. “Feli, will you be okay being alone tonight? Roddy and I wouldn’t be home until nearly ten.”

“Si, I’ll be okay.”

“It’s perfectly understandable if you want someone there.”

Feliciano looked at her, confused. “Do you not trust me? I won’t burn your house down, promise.”

She chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Just call us if you need anything, we’ll be more than happy to come back home. There’s some frozen dinners in the freezer you can make yourself tonight when you get hungry.”

She pulled into the driveway and Feliciano got out alone and watched her as she backed out onto the street. He was _actually_ alone now. It was new—he had never been alone at someone else’s house before. He pulled his house key out and went inside, locking the door as he closed it.

The house was so quiet. It was a weird, booming silence that was practically white noise flooding Feliciano’s ears. A whimper escaped his throat and it came crashing down on him; he never realized how much he hated being alone. Before it was scary because it was the calm before the storm, the waiting period, wondering when his mom would come home or his dad would wake up. Now he was just _alone_. Roderich and Elizaveta were gone until ten and it was almost uncomfortable having such a regulated life now.

Feliciano wandered the house, trying to find something to do to calm his nerves or to distract himself. He could faintly remember his home when he was just a little kid, probably four-years-old. It was the same house he had always lived in, but new and perfect. That was before things fell apart, before the walls were decorated in sparkles of glass shards and specks of darkened blood.

It was haunting and the guilt built up in his stomach, resenting himself for only thinking of the bad times at his home. Frustrated with himself he angrily kicked a side table, gasping and sobbing quickly when a few of his broken toes smacked into the hard surface. He lost his balance and fell on his ass, tightly holding onto his foot, hoping to stop the blood and pain from rushing in.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” he wailed to himself, eyes screwed shut. He stopped his weak sobs and breathed in deeply when the pain faded to a small throb. He opened his eyes again and looked at the table, amazed he could lose his temper like Lovino was so prone to. That _really_ hurt, why the hell did he do that?

Right. Because he’s an awful child to only think of the bad times. That was why.

He got back up and stumbled to his room, closing the door quietly out of habit. The bed felt so soft and welcoming to his somehow stiff body. He closed his eyes and hummed, annoyed when the bad thoughts came back. The thoughts that told him he was wasting everyone’s time; that he wasn’t worth the teachers’ time at school, that he was a burden for living with the Edelsteins yet not working. It told him how ungrateful he was to think so lowly of his poor, _dead_ parents and the home he used to have. There were homeless kids and parents who lock their children in basements or sheds, he should be happy for what he had!

He hummed louder, wanting to drown out the thoughts. They had been building up since the funeral and they wouldn’t go away. He used to be able to sit down and draw anything and keep a blank mind. He was able to walk around the school and feel happy for no reason at all. He used to be excited for art class and be proud of his work.

 It wasn’t fair. Why was he losing himself like this? Did everyone become this way after death? Why was he acting so hurt and Lovino was fine?

What was happening to him?

He sat up abruptly and placed his head in his hands. Deep breaths did nothing to ease his mind or calm him down. He used to draw or nap when he was upset but art became more work than it was worth and he had trouble sleeping without those pain meds Roderich ran out of. Panic began to rise in his throat when he realized he had lost his only two methods of calming down and he had no idea what to do.

“Calm, calm,” his voice wavered. “Calm down, Feli, calm…” He was almost shaking and brought his knees up to his chest to hold onto. The action sent a wave of pain to his toes again and he inhaled sharply. They numbed down again, and it hit Feliciano: _he felt better_.

He actually felt a little calmer than he did a minute ago. The feelings paused while he sat there, curled up, deep in thought. He found something that helped! He didn’t have to panic, he had a solution. That in itself brought him down from his trembling, but it didn’t stop the pain stabbing at his heart.

Feliciano curled his toes in, wincing at the anticipated pain. He curled them as hard as he could before the pain erupted and forced him to relax his foot. A small wave of calm danced over his skin and he smiled. He curled his toes again, waited, _relaxed_. The feeling was too far from the emotional pain locked in his torso, so he reached his hand over to his left arm and pinched the skin with his nails. The pain wasn’t as intense but it would work.

After the bout of relaxation he laid his head back down and snuggled into the pillows. He felt drained from being upset so recently and had no trouble falling asleep.

* * *

The front door creaked open as Roderich came into the dimly-lit house.

“Feliciano must be asleep already,” he observed.

“Poor thing has been so tired lately,” Elizaveta added. “Do you think the bed’s not comfy enough?”

Roderich looked at her and she went quiet. They both knew it wasn’t the case. Elizaveta took note of the clean state of the kitchen, wondering if Feliciano ate at all or if he was just very cleanly. She frowned at the thought of him going hungry. While Roderich entered the kitchen to get them a late dinner, she crept to Feliciano’s door, opening it slightly to see his calm face and his little body wrapped up in the comforters. At least he could sleep again.

* * *

 “Hey, Feliciano, I want to talk with you.”

Feliciano looked up from his desk, surprised that Ludwig would initiate a conversation. The past two weeks were spent in awkward silence until now.

“What is it?”

The blonde rubbed his neck nervously. “I wanted to know how you’ve been.”

“I’ve been fine.”             

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t try to give me some half-assed lie.”

“But I’m not.”

It was eerie how calm he was being again. Ludwig watched him for a moment, trying to figure him out. “We’re friends, _ja_?”

“Si, we are.”

“Then act like it.”

Feliciano’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I said _act like it_.” The aggression faded from his tone and his face softened. “Feli, don’t block me out. Please, _mein_ friend. Don’t be like that idiot Alfred, don’t play the hero. I know things are hard on you right now but it won’t get better if you push your friends away.”

Feliciano was shocked to hear such words from his stoic friend. He was used to being reprimanded for stupid things like drawing cats all over his binders, not calmly reminded that he had friends to lean on. “I just need to be alone,” he murmured.

“You’ve been alone. You’ve isolated yourself for weeks and is it helping? Do you really feel better?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. Ludwig had a point, he had to admit it was miserable not talking about his feelings like he used to be so prone to. He remembered last night, when he finally calmed down. Things will get better alone, they already started to!

“I do. Things are finally getting better. Don’t ruin that.”

Ludwig’s jaw dropped at the sudden change in tone. “Fine. You can keep making yourself miserable, just remember I’m here when you need someone. Promise me you won’t let things get too bad, Feli.”

“I promise,” he said softly.

Though he knew inside that he wouldn’t be keeping that promise. They both knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Serpents" by Sharon Van Etten**
> 
> _It was a close call_   
>  _Sitting in the back of the room_   
>  _With a bowl you had owned_   
>  _But they didn't know_   
>  _Close in on my black eye_   
>  _I feel safe at times_   
>  _Certain emblems_   
>  _Tell me it's time_   
>  _Serpents in my mind_   
>  _Looking for your crimes_   
>  _Everything changes_   
>  _I don't want mine to this time_


	8. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self harm/Cutting**

“Feli, did you get hurt? How did this happen?”

The Italian felt panic rush through him when Elizaveta gently held his arm, which was red from his recent bout of calming himself down. He didn’t draw any blood, which was good, because only people with problems drew blood. He was okay.

“Just hit my arm on my dresser,” he lied, hoping those scratches could pass for a scrape.

She frowned. “Alright, Feli. Try to be more careful. I’d hate to have to take you back to the ER,” she joked.

Feliciano was about to walk away when she called out, “Wait!” He turned back to her as she pulled a small plastic bag from her purse. “I nearly forgot! I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to, Miss _Hungary_!”

She smiled at the nickname. “You’re seventeen and it’s the twenty-first century. You need one of _these_ ,” she pulled a black rectangle from the bag. Feliciano instantly recognized it as a smartphone, the same kind Alfred and Matthew had. “So you can keep in touch with your friends.”

His lips parted slightly as he took this in. Elizaveta went out of her way and spent her money on such a wonderful little device all for him. It was amazing to his poor self. “F-for me?”

“Just for you, _Italy_ ,” she winked.

He approached her and slowly picked up the phone, touching the round home button and lighting up the screen. He had never had something this nice before. He swiped his finger over the screen and smiled like a little kid at all the bright colors and apps.

“I… thank you!” He hugged her tightly, minding his phone. “This is so nice, I didn’t know you liked me that much, does Roderich know? Oh no, he’ll be mad you spent so much on me, it’s not even my birthday!”

Elizaveta giggled and patted the Italian on the head. “Slow down, Feli. Roddy knows and it was even his idea. He said you should have a phone for emergencies. I said you needed something to keep you from getting too bored. Now go download some _Irate Pigeons_ or whatever it’s called.”

“Angry Birds,” he corrected. Then he skipped off to his room, happy talking to himself and mumbling about needing to text Ludwig about his new phone. Elizaveta smiled at the happy boy. It’d been too long since she’d seen him excited about anything.

Feliciano plopped on his bed and started programming all the phone numbers he could remember into the device. He even had the Facebook app downloading and he was ready to be able to update it again.

His worries were lost in his excited haze and he began composing a text for his friend.

**Eliza and Roddy got me a phone :) xx Feli**

He fidgeted, unable to sit still. The phone buzzed and he smiled wide at his first ever text.

**That’s great, Feli.**

The reply was a little disappointing but he wasn’t surprised. Ludwig was always such a serious texter, it was like he was a boring adult already. He was ready to set the phone down when he got another text.

**You can text me any time. I’ll always be here.**

He frowned. Why was Ludwig being so _supportive_ lately? Ever since their talk the week before he had been so… un-Ludwig. He told him he was fine!

A weird irritation formed in his chest at the idea that Ludwig wouldn’t believe he was fine. He put his phone on his nightstand and paced his room. Unluckily for him his toes had healed up to the point that pain was harder to achieve in them. He tried not to go too hard on them, afraid of needing more visits to the doctor to straighten them out. He felt an odd sense of regret for letting his toes heal.

He sank down to the floor, feeling helpless again. When did the feelings come back? Why does he feel bad again?

The phone buzzed again but he ignored it. Elizaveta called out from the kitchen that she was going to work with Roderich. Feliciano perked up, calling back a farewell before he heard the front door shut and a car engine rev.

He was alone again.

The house was once again screaming at him in the developing silence. The only reminder that he was here was the consistent buzzing of his new phone demanding to be seen, for the texts to be read. Feliciano continued to ignore it, partially out of spite for the item to send him into such a poor mood.

Feliciano then turned his attention to his arms, to the gentle crooks of his elbows, to the tiny wrist with the protruding bone. The insatiable desire for a release and some calmness was gnawing at his chest and his head. He reached his uncut nails to his skin once more, pausing when he realized he’d be screwed if he did it again; Elizaveta had already seen the scratches from the “dresser.” He was clumsy, but he wasn’t clumsy enough to keep running into it at the same angle to his body.

A short sob escaped his throat when he realized the dilemma. He wanted nothing more than to kick his toes in and re-break every single one in his foot. He needed something to distract him and replace the pain that was ballooning up inside of him and making it harder to breathe.

Soon he found himself stalking out to the kitchen, reasoning with himself, trying to convince himself he was okay and he was doing the right thing. He needed something, something, _anything_ to stop this emotion building and ready to erupt in his body.

Approaching the utensil drawer was a feat itself, proving to Feliciano he could do this unspeakable action he had caught up in his head. A shaky hand pulled the drawer open and another shaky hand fingered through the metal objects until he found one he liked; a generic knife, serrated at the end, part of a set. No one would even notice it was gone, it wasn’t unique or special. It was just there, like he was.

Looking around the room, as if he was afraid of being caught in an empty house, he gently removed the extra knife and exited the kitchen. He returned to his room, clicking the small lock in the handle which he had never felt the need to use until now.

It was almost six o’clock and he had plenty of time, which he knew for sure. There was a soft buzzing in the background as he sat against the wall across from his bed. Feliciano quickly examined his arms and took in the sight of his shredded left arm, light red from the irritation of his latest habit of scratching the skin raw.

But it didn’t bleed, so that meant he didn’t have a problem.

In hindsight he was lucky anyone fell for the “hit my arm” lie whenever his arm was exposed. It looked similar to a scrape, though controlled and gentle. He had been doing this since his toes stopped helping, and he had been lucky not to be caught. Just the other day in school Ludwig had given him a stern look and asked about how he kept getting his left arm scratched on household furniture.

The hurt in Ludwig’s eyes were the worst kind of punishment.

“I promise, Luddy, I won’t lie about it anymore,” Feliciano whispered to himself. “Never again.”

He lightly slid the blade over his arm, flat side down, shivering as the cold metal touched the sensitive and healing skin. Next he looked himself over, focusing on his legs hidden beneath a layer of jean.

Slowly he rolled up the fabric covering his left leg, delaying what he knew he would do once he was sufficiently prepared. He took the blade between two fingers and wiped away any imaginary germs he thought would linger, noting how sharp the knife was and how jagged the serrated edges were.

The knife was poised over the skin, an inch above his delicate ankle. He found himself thinking of something he heard in passing at school one day, “ _Across the road, not down the street_.” The knife was eased down, touching the skin but had no pressure to break it. This was the moment, Feliciano knew, that would mark his teenage life. Once you do it, it can never be undone. It was a huge deal in the world of high school and everyone knew that the _goth kids_ and the _emos_ all cut for attention.

But if he hid it then he didn’t have a problem. No one knows it’s there if they can’t see it. That was all Feliciano could think of, rationalizing that he was okay, that he didn’t need to talk to anyone about it, as he slid the blade into a thin and shallow cut across his leg. It was barely an inch long and it didn’t bleed enough to bead blood. It was still there, clear as day.

The accomplishment caused more anxiety in the brunette than anticipated and he spent the next half-hour adding more cuts to his leg, localized to the same area, going a little longer and a little deeper until the blood would rush to the surface of the cut but never poured over.

After the last cut he felt better. He was ashamed of his leg and his arm, but he felt better. A few bandages littered on his arm and leg finished off the feeling and Feliciano smiled. He stumbled to his bed, tripping over a misplaced shoe as he went. The phone had finally silenced and he checked it, seeing Ludwig had tried calling him a few times and texted him.

Needy.

**Are you okay? It’s not like you to ignore people.**

Feliciano cringed at the newest text. There was absolutely no way Ludwig could already know! No, he wouldn’t allow it.

**Sorry Luddy. Im still learning this new phone lol**

He smiled at his brilliant excuse and laid down, not hungry enough to get up and make food. The bed was so soft, and his pants were rubbing his ankle in just the right way to bring on stings and pinches of pain. He sighed, content, and drifted into the easiest sleep he’d known since he moved in.

* * *

Elizaveta stared at their kitchen in confusion. She and Roderich had just arrived home from work and she immediately noticed the similar perfect state of the kitchen.

“Is he eating?” she asked out loud.

“I was a very neat boy at his age. He could just be excellent at cleaning up after himself.”

“You’ve seen him at work. He leaves trails of petals in his wake! I know he tries but he’s a messy boy.”

The two went through the cabinets and the fridge trying to find some sign of life, some sign that Feliciano was, in fact, living there. All the food and plates were exactly as they left them. Come to think of it, they hadn’t had dinner with him in a while. He’s been left to fend for himself and it appears he hadn’t even done that.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Roderich sighed, defeated.

They stalked to bed, stopping to peak into Feliciano’s room. To their surprise the door was locked and wouldn’t budge. Teenage boys want privacy, it’s not a shock to finally see him locking the door in itself, but it was weird for such an open boy.

He was obviously changing and they didn’t like it.

The next morning Elizaveta had to hurry off to work to tend to the flower shop. Meanwhile, Roderich stood in the kitchen and began breakfast. _God, Feli, please don’t be one of those edgy male anorexics,_ he worried. A soft click and bare feet padding against the hardwood floors sounded behind him and he was joined by a confused Italian.

“Uh, Roderich…” he mumbled, looking around the kitchen and checking the time on the oven clock.

“Yes, Feliciano?” he asked, standing over the pancakes he was trying so hard not to burn.

“Why are you here? Don’t you go to work now?”

“Elizaveta is going today. She said I needed a little break.”

“Oh.”

Roderich continued working and paused when he heard his ward walking away. “Stay, Feliciano. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when Feliciano came back and sat at the table. He served the pancakes out and sat across from the young brunette.

“I need to speak with you,” he began. Feliciano’s face immediately paled and he stopped his eating to look at the adult with shifting eyes.

“A-about what?”

“About your eating habits.”

The panic was dissipating and he felt almost calm again. He guiltily looked down at his plate and mumbled, “Am I eating too much?”

“What? No! Not at all,” Roderich replied, shocked. “We can tell you’ve been skipping dinner. I’m talking with you about it so we can fix that. Feli, why aren’t you eating?”

“I’ve been so tired, I fall asleep before I can get anything,” he said honestly.

“I’m not going to work tonight. We’ll eat together. I need to be sure you’re not starving. I could never let my star employee go hungry.”

Feliciano chuckled and finished his food. “Si, si, Mr. Edelstein. Just one question: will there be pasta?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Empty" by Ray LaMontagne**
> 
> _Well, I looked my demons in the eyes_   
>  _Laid bare my chest, said "Do your best, destroy me_   
>  _You see, I've been to hell and back so many times,_   
>  _I must admit you kind of bore me."_   
>  _There's a lot of things that can kill a man_   
>  _There's a lot of ways to die_   
>  _Yes, and some already dead that walk beside me_   
>  _There's a lot of things I don't understand_   
>  _Why so many people lie_   
>  _Well, it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me_   
>  _Will I always feel this way_   
>  _So empty, so estranged?_


	9. Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self-harm/Cutting, Emotional Breakdown, Referenced Child Abuse**

Feliciano didn’t know he could feel this much anxiety outside of his old home. Ever since he discovered how to relax he’s been ironically more nervous than normal. It was bad enough he was still afraid of men and loud noises, now he has to be afraid of his arms and legs being seen!

First period was as uneventful as ever. Today their class was going around the school grounds and writing short pieces based on the imagery of the outside world. Feliciano was, again, pulled aside and told to do the best he could. He hated the sympathy more and more.

By last class he was completely drained. His eyes were far too heavy and his legs were far too shaky. He became self-aware and self-conscious of where his socks slid and where his pants shifted to possibly expose the bandages. He grew more anxious as the day dragged on and caught himself multiple times digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

He stumbled to his seat, not caring enough to watch where he was bumping into and which chairs were being moved. He flopped into his usual seat and placed his head in his folded arms. Ludwig watched him with worry as he entered the room. It wasn’t like Feliciano to be so careless.  
Clumsy, yes, but careless? Never.

But he let his friend sleep, remembering those bitter words, “ _Don’t ruin that_.” Class let out and he casually nudged the Italian to wake him up before he slinked away.

That night Feliciano and Roderich ate their dinner in silence, neither knowing what to say or how to say it.

“So, Feliciano… how was school?”

“It was fine.”

The young teen moved his bare feet together under the table and snuck a few light scratches with his clipped toenails. He needed release and he couldn’t get it with this damn Austrian here watching him!

He finished his food and excused himself to get showered. He stopped in his room along the way, bringing a change of clothes with the knife hidden between the loose articles. There was a small beat of triumph in his heart when he locked the bathroom door behind him.

He slid his clothes off, stopping to look at his reflection. The same, ugly reflection. His ribs weren’t as sickly prominent and his hips were still jutting out dramatically. He smiled dryly, _At least I’m gaining some weight_.

He examined his pale skin, where the bruises once were and where the bones once stood starkly against the dirt he used to acquire from the conditions of his old home. It was chilling to watch himself, knowing he may never have that old reflection ever again. No more bruises from his dad and no more reddened cheeks from his mom smacking him. Even the weight gain was a change—no more being starved for beer money.

But his legs would get worse. His legs would be scarred and bleeding in no time, and he liked that. If he liked it, then he didn’t have a problem. People who were depressed and emo and cut for attention had problems. He didn’t. He was okay.

He sat on the edge of the cold bathtub, legs in the basin, turning the water on as he began the new layer of cuts, all smaller and placed closely together to save “good” space on his skin. The water burned and the cuts hissed in pain, but it was _so worth it_. The happy feeling danced around the broken skin again and faded up into his head. He felt good again.

The water ran down his long legs and took the red liquid down the drain, leaving trails of the crimson joy down his feet. Feliciano wiped away the red remaining in the tub with his foot and stepped back out. The bandages were easily found under the sink and before long he was all wrapped up again, taking the old, used bandages and the knife with him to his room.

A familiar buzz echoed from the nightstand and he smiled seeing Ludwig’s name appear brightly on the screen.

**Are you ok? You seemed off today.**

He frowned. Why couldn’t that idiot leave him be? Feliciano typed an excuse and sent it without care.

**I couldn’t sleep last night**

He stuffed the phone under his pillow and ignored the buzzing to follow. Stupid Ludwig and his stupid unwarranted worry. He angrily grabbed the spare pillow and curled up at the foot of the bed, away from that damn phone. He was too tired to even consider turning it off.

The next day was worse than anticipated. Feliciano fell out of bed, forgetting where he was. He had a small anxiety attack in the darkened room, worried his dad had pushed him out of bed (again) and left him alone to panic until he remembered he was at the Edelstein’s home.

Then Elizaveta was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. It seemed the adults were doing their best to ensure he ate. Each meal felt bigger than the last, especially since his stomach was still expanding from his previously starved state. All the food in him made him want to get sick when the nerves kicked in.

When he arrived at school each teacher informed him they felt he was ready to do the work again and began piling on the new assignments; forty math questions, an essay about imagery (along with reading the first few chapters of _The Scarlet Letter_ ), sketchbook assignments to draw his bedroom and a portrait, along with crippling amounts of notes and study guides for World History.

He was picked up from school by Roderich and left alone at the house again with the promise that they would close the shop early and have dinner together.

Feliciano found himself sitting on the bedroom floor with all the work he had spread around him. He picked random assignments to start on, stopping when he realized he had no idea how to graph that function or format that essay. How could his teachers expect him to do all of this?!

His cheeks burned and his vision blurred. It was stupid to be so upset over _this_. His negative thoughts began to build up and get heavier as they tipped over and crushed him. Tears leaked out and down his red cheeks. He attempted a few half-assed math problems before he gave up and pushed all the work to the side.

He leaned against his bed and sobbed into his hands, growing louder, unafraid of being heard in this empty house. He begrudgingly stood and dug the knife from his hidden place in the bedside drawer, under an inconspicuous notebook.

The blade felt comfortable in his hand and slicing through his other leg, the clean one. He needed plenty of space to vent and his left leg was already a battlefield beneath the knee. He knew he was going too far, that he should stop and let them heal before he added to it. And as he cut into his previously-good leg, knee to ankle, in hurried slashes, he told himself he would stop. He would give himself time to heal.

Feliciano knew it was all just comforting lies.

And the tears continued to fall and the stress wouldn’t leave. He paused, sobbing and gasping for air. It didn’t help. The cuts didn’t make the pain go away, they made it worse. But… why couldn’t he stop?

_I like it_ , he told himself. _I deserve this. It’s my fault I’m going to fail school and it’s my fault that… that my parents…_

More sobs wracked his body and he flung the knife aside to the floor. A few limps and he was in the bathroom, sitting on the side of the bathtub, pouring a bottle of alcohol down the cuts in his paranoid fears of getting some kind of blood poisoning. He gasped and loudly sobbed in crooked breaths at the searing pain. He patted his leg dry with some tissue and gingerly wrapped the appendage with a thick layer of gauze and whatever cloth bandages he could find.

He limped back to his room, wiping away the wetness on his raw face. He groaned when he saw the knife, kneeling with a grunt to pick it up and re-hide it, not caring he hadn’t cleaned it yet. There was a small darkened spot on the carpet and he kicked a pair of discarded pants to hide it.

He was even more drained than he thought he ever could be and curled up under his blanket, wincing at his legs rubbing against _everything_. But it was good. He liked it! He needed it!

He hated it.

Completely forgetting the world around him and the early arrival of his guardians, he drifted off.

* * *

Feliciano slowly opened his eyes, which were still heavier than lead, watching the wall of his room. There was a nightlight on somewhere and he could actually see his dresser and the desk rather than the total darkness.

As he gained his senses back a small throbbing in his head, with a matching throb in his leg, etched deep into his skin. He felt like he sweated through his blanket and shivered when he made a move to take off the offending covers.

A few rushed sneezes flew through him and he burrowed his face deeper into the pillow as the throb intensified.

The alarm clock to his side was bright and blinding. He narrowed his eyes and read it to himself. 9:45 PM. Oh no. That means Rod and Eliza would be home!

He sniffled, unsure if it was because of his emotions or the apparent sickness. His attempt to sit up was accompanied by a sudden dizziness and he settled for sliding to his back and watching the ceiling.

Elizaveta peaked her head in the room and scurried to the small teen’s side, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. She reached a hand out, smoothing the hair out of Feliciano’s face. She felt a pang of worry when he flinched away and winced a tiny bit.

She left the room and spoke quietly with Roderich, telling him she was getting worried and Feliciano was sick. The boy couldn’t catch a break.

“I’ll call the school in the morning,” Roderich said airily. Elizaveta nodded and walked to the bathroom to check for supplies while Roderich went to check on Feliciano. The teen was trying to sleep but failing miserably, moaning to himself as he tried to get situated in bed without hurting his head too much. He startled the boy when he sat down and felt his forehead. Feliciano had flinched once more.

He left and quickly returned with Elizaveta. They laid a damp cloth on the teen’s forehead, making him whine momentarily at the cool invasion to his skin. Elizaveta patted his hair and stroked his cheek until he fell asleep again.

They left, leaving the door ajar. Elizaveta and Roderich sat in the kitchen, pulling out their cold dinners from the fridge.

“He flinched,” Elizaveta murmured. “It was like he was afraid.”

“I know,” Roderich said. He averted his eyes and the two ate in silence. “I’m calling his brother.” He got up from the table and half-eaten food and walked to his bedroom, shortly followed by his wife. They sat together on the bed while the phone rang, eventually picked up by a very angry Italian.

_“Someone else better be dead,”_ he hissed.

“It’s your brother—”

_“Feliciano’s dead?!”_

“NO! He’s not dead!” There was a barely audible sigh of relief on the other end. Roderich composed himself. “We _are_ worried about him.”

_“The fuck, why?”_

“He hasn’t been the same. Since…. _That night_ … I haven’t seen him act like his usual _happy_ self. He’s been bored at school, he’s skipping dinners, and that German friend of his stopped by the shop today saying he was worrying as well.”           

_“The potato bastard?”_

“Yes, the potato bastard. And he’s gotten sick and started flinching away from us. We don’t know what to do with him,” he admitted.

_“Feli doesn’t like adults so much,”_ Lovino muttered into the phone. _“He’s had some bad experiences.”_

A small coughing in the next room stopped them from their talking. Roderich sighed into the phone, “I think he’s awake again. If there’s nothing you can tell us then we need to go take care of him—”

_“Wait.”_

Roderich and Elizaveta leaned into the phone, both listening in. It wasn’t like Lovino to be so receptive.

_“Be careful with him,”_ he bit out.

“We’ve been trying.”

_“Not enough!”_

“Look, Lovino, we’ve been doing all we can. It’s hard when he keeps acting _different_!”

There was some shuffling on the other end and Lovino’s voice came back, somewhat echoing, as if he moved to the bathroom to speak _. “Let’s try this: I’m guessing Feli never told you how great our parents were growing up. I’m going to clear shit up. My parents were bastards and they died too late. I’m not going to go into details but, spoiler alert, Feli wasn’t mugged that day he came to you bleeding. It doesn’t take an idiot to see child abuse. I’ve got to go. Call me tomorrow.”_ There was a click and the line went dead. Roderich and Elizaveta stared at one another, shocked at the revelation.

Child abuse. Everything made sense again. Feliciano was always willing to work to be out of his house. Feliciano wasn’t bruised because he was ‘clumsy.’ Feliciano’s destroyed house spoke volumes and his little flinches were clear as day. He was afraid of being hit. He was afraid of being found out. That poor young man was afraid of _them_.

Elizaveta wiped the forming tears from her eyes and walked with Roderich to Feliciano’s room. They sat on the bed together, watching the boy sleep with a slight grimace on his soft face. Another coughing fit and he was awake again, this time with Elizaveta there to rub his back and with Roderich at his side, holding a trash bin just in case.

He choked down the sobs and coughs and looked at Roderich with his half-lidded eyes. He winced a little when the older man reached forward and wiped his mouth with a tissue. Feliciano closed his eyes again, threatening to fall asleep sitting up. Elizaveta was soothing him in such a foreign way. She was more of a mom and Roderich was more of a dad than—

The tears were back faster than ever and he sniffled while Roderich wiped away the tears, a box of tissues sitting on his lap. Elizaveta held onto him and held him close while he tried to calm down. She and Roderich both kissed the top of his head and helped him lay back down. They replaced the cloth on his forehead and Elizaveta held his hand, stroking the back of it.

“We’re staying home tomorrow,” Roderich said softly. “And you’re skipping school.”

“But, I have so much work,” he croaked out, voice broken and throat dry.

“I saw your work. _The Scarlet Letter_ sucked,” Roderich mused. “No use reading that trash. We’ll just rent the movie.” Feliciano smiled at the change in character and snuggled deeper into his blankets.

He was drifting away again, content this time. Elizaveta brushed his hair aside, this time with no flinching away. “And Feli,” she softly called. “Don’t _ever_ be too ashamed to tell us something.”

Those words were so uncalled for. He worried he had been caught, but in the moment didn’t care if he was. These people were caring for him. They must mean it. He fell asleep for the last time that night, feeling safe for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Afraid" by The Neighbourhood**
> 
> _Being me can only mean_   
>  _Feeling scared to breathe_   
>  _If you leave me then I'll be afraid of everything_   
>  _That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down, lets me face this,_   
>  _Let me sleep,_   
>  _And when I wake up_   
>  _(when I wake up, when I wake up)_   
>  _Let me be_


	10. Fix You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Anxiety**

“He’s doing better,” Elizaveta hummed into the phone. “He seems to have calmed down since last night. He’s tired, but he’s smiling again.”

_“Good. Tell that bastard to call sometime. Listening to Antonio orgasm all the time over fucking tomatoes is like nails on a chalkboard.”_

She choked and laughed. “Lovino!”

Meanwhile Feliciano was in his room, sitting in bed with Roderich. They were both under the covers and in “lazy” clothes, watching a movie on the TV that the Austrian had moved into the room until further notice.

Feliciano excused himself and got out of bed. Roderich immediately followed, holding his arm as the younger dizzily made his way to the bathroom. Inside he locked the door and sat on the tub, carefully peeling the bandages away. He had been worrying he somehow had blood poisoning and he knew he wouldn’t feel better until he checked that the cuts were all healing normally. They were all red and puffy with dried shame on them, but they appeared just the same as always.

He put the bandages back and met up with Roderich, who helped him back to his room. They sat in bed, watching the movie until Feliciano fell asleep against Roderich’s shoulder.

Around four o’clock there was a knocking on the door. Elizaveta stopped her cooking and answered it, surprised to see Ludwig standing there, looking awkward.

“Oh, hello, Ludwig.”

“Hello, Mrs. Edelstein,” he greeted formally. “Is Feliciano in?”

“Oh, yes, but he’s sick,” she replied. He was ready to walk away when she called out, “I’m sure he’d love to see you. You’d cheer him right up!”

Ludwig entered the house and followed the Hungarian to the bedroom where Feliciano was awake again and watching another movie with Roderich.

“Feli, honey, your friend is here to see you!”

Feliciano and Roderich both looked up. Feliciano smiled at his friend, too weak and dizzy to wave like he used to. Roderich got up, giving a small greeting before he went to his room to put on clothes that were more presentable for company.

Ludwig was then left alone with Feliciano. He sat in a chair by the bed and curtly looked away. “I was worried.”

“You were?”

“When you didn’t show up to school again. I thought… something else bad happened.”

Feliciano remembered the night before, all the pain and blood and sobs. “Nothing bad happened,” he lied. “I’m sick.”

“You were ignoring my texts. I thought… I just, well…”

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. He pulled the smartphone from his nightstand drawer, seeing all the missed calls and sitting texts. “I’m sorry, Luddy. I’m not used to having a phone to check.” He decided to wait until after Ludwig was gone to read the messages.

“Feliciano,” he grunted. “You can’t keep hiding.”

The Italian tilted his head. “I’m right here, Luddy.”

“You know what I mean.” A stab of guilt hit Feliciano and he found himself wringing his wrists, wanting to _scratchscratchcut_ them. They shared a long look, one of confusion and understanding. Roderich and Elizaveta were being great to Feliciano, saying they cared. Maybe Ludwig cares as well… maybe he wasn’t lying when he said he could be trusted.

It was the first time Feliciano didn’t think of his parents when he thought of trust and adults. He weakly held his arms up, like a child. Ludwig’s eyes softened and he understood. He got up, sitting on the bed, giving the too-warm teen a strong embrace. He felt Feliciano’s soft chin rest on his shoulder and he snuggled into the hug. Ludwig hated affection but he let this moment be. He just held onto the Italian he was so worried about for his own selfish reasons.

A small timer dinged and Feliciano flinched out of the hug.

“What was that?”

“The, uh…” he looked away and his face was tinted red. “…the medicine timer.”

“Medicine timer?”

Feliciano’s blush darkened. “Well, Roddy said I had to take the nasty medicine, but I didn’t want to because last time I took it it made my feet smell because I threw up all over them. So he said I could wait, but I had to when the timer went off…”

“So you need to take it now?”  

“…Si.”

Ludwig got up from the bed and found the blue bottle of nighttime medicine beside the timer. There was a small measuring cup and he poured out the greenish liquid. He turned back to Feliciano, who watched him with wide eyes.

“Well, I better be getting to bed! I sure am tired—”

Ludwig sat with him again and held tightly to his shoulder. “ _Nein_ , Feliciano. It’s time to take your medicine.”               

“But it’s so gross, Luddy!”

“Take it.”

“No!”

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, FELI?!”

Roderich and Elizaveta watched the door from the kitchen, snickering to themselves at the frustrated German.

“TAKE IT, FELI. TAKE IT.”

“NO, THAT DOESN’T GO THERE!”

“IT GOES **IN YOUR MOUTH**.”

In the end the only way Ludwig could get Feliciano to take the horrid medicine was to take some himself, to _show solidarity_. He had left the room after he and Feliciano took the god-awful medicine, skirting past the adults to get a glass of water for him and the Italian to get the taste out. Roderich snorted at the sight of some green liquid smeared on Ludwig’s chin.

It was nighttime medicine, so of course the boys were both asleep the next time Elizaveta went to check on them. Ludwig was over the blankets and Feliciano was, as usual, huddled beneath them. This time Feliciano was curled into the warmth of his best friend. Elizaveta smiled softly and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

She quickly called Gilbert, whose number she had solely so she could call him and yell at him for constantly sneaking into the flower shop to scare Feliciano.

_“Look who it is, Eliza herself calling the awesome—”_

“Hello, Gilbert. Your brother fell asleep here and I think he’d be too tired to walk home. Be a dear and tell your parents for him.” She clicked the phone off and giggled to herself, knowing Gilbert would be pissed to be hung up on like that.

She walked back to the guest room, _Feliciano’s room_ , and checked on the boys again. There was something absolutely adorable about platonic male friends inadvertently cuddling in their sleep. She took a few quick pictures with her phone and went back to Roderich in the kitchen.

“When Feliciano is feeling better I think we should talk to him about… the abuse,” Roderich said quietly, as not to alert the boys on the off chance they’d wake up. Elizaveta simply nodded and they worked on dinner. After an hour or so it was done. They made soup for their sick Italian and they brought two trays of food into the bedroom for each of the teenagers.

Ludwig yawned and sat up, woken by the sound of the door alone. Roderich and Elizaveta left the food on the desk. “I called your brother. You’re spending the night,” Elizaveta added before exiting. “I’d feel better if you didn’t have to walk home in the dark.”

Ludwig nodded and went to the desk to eat his own food (something solid and German-esque) while Feliciano continued to sleep. Once he finished he brought the other tray to the bed and sat next to his friend, rousing him from his rest.

“Get up, it’s time to eat.”

“But I’m tired,” Feliciano whined.

“You can sleep after you eat your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I swear to _Gott_ if you keep whining…”

Feliciano groaned and sat up, adjusting his eyes to the world of the conscious. Ludwig eased the tray to his small lap and after a few failed tries, began to feed Feliciano himself.

After he finished, unable to eat all of it, Ludwig helped Feliciano slide back down the bed and onto his back.

“Luddy?”

“Ja, Feliciano?”

“Thank you for… for visiting… and helping me eat.”

“And feeding you your medicine,” Ludwig smirked.

“Oh no, I hated that.”

Ludwig chuckled and patted his friend on the head. “As it turns out, I’ll be spending the night. I can force-feed you your medicine again tomorrow morning.”

Feliciano groaned at the prospect of more medicine, then silenced. Ludwig was spending the night. What if he saw his legs? What if he found the knife in the drawer? What if he—

“Feliciano? Are you alright?” Ludwig was gently rubbing the Italian’s arm in a soothing motion uncharacteristic of the straight-faced German.

“ _Mi dispiace_ ,” he muttered back.  “I’m going to bed.”

Ludwig wasn’t happy with the reaction. Feliciano was starting to act normal again, and suddenly he’s back to acting all weird and unusual. He wanted to blame it on the sickness, but Feliciano didn’t act normal until he was sick.

Ludwig sighed and left the room once he was sure his friend was out. In the living room the adults sat together and he approached them, asking if there were any spare blankets.

“There’s another guest room right over there,” Elizaveta said, pointing to the door next to Feliciano’s room. “Go ahead and sleep in there. I’d hate for you to catch what Feli has.”

“Ja, _danke_ , Elizaveta,” he said.

“ _Germa_ —Ludwig?” She called out.

He stopped and turned around.

“Can we talk with you about something?”

He nodded and sat down in an adjacent chair to where Roderich and Elizaveta sat.

“Have you noticed anything different about Feliciano?” She asked quietly. “It’s becoming clear he’s… going through some things.”

Ludwig cast a glance back to his friend’s room and turned back. Was it wrong to tell your worries to a guardian? Realistically he knew he should, but in his teenaged mind he was afraid.

Taking a breath, he calmly replied, “Ja. I… I have noticed a change.”

The couple gave him a look, urging him to go on.

“He’s always tired in class, though we only have last class together. But he wasn’t always so exhausted before. He used to tell me about his day and homework but now he just naps through class or stares blankly at the wall.”

Roderich hummed and nodded.

“He… Something isn’t right with him and he won’t tell me what it is. If he won’t tell me, I’m sure he hasn’t told anyone else. He used to be so open and now he’s shut down. I don’t know what to do. I keep telling him I know he’s hiding something and he can trust me, but he… he won’t…” Ludwig hung his head low, as if disappointed in himself for not being able to fix the Italian.

“Ludwig, thank you for telling us.” Elizaveta said. “He stopped eating dinner after his brother left. You got him to eat again,” she smiled, leaving out when they would stay behind to make sure he ate. “We’re glad he has a friend like you. Sometimes you need to push people to get them to open up.”

Ludwig nodded and left for the guest room. He felt such unrelenting worry in his gut now that he knew Feliciano’s problems weren’t just at school. It was such a bittersweet feeling having his worries validated. He shuffled into the room and laid under the perfectly made sheets of the bed.

* * *

The next morning Ludwig snuck into Feliciano’s room before he woke up. He sat carefully on the bed and watched the small Italian sleeping. His cheeks weren’t as red as the night before but he was still flushed and warm. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Ludwig, who had bedhead (something Feliciano had never seen before). He giggled a bit and sat up, happy to see his dizziness was fading.

“Morning, Luddy.”

“ _Ja_ , morning, Feliciano.”

They flipped the TV on and sat together, watching whatever was on cable at the moment. As it turned out, Roderich and Elizaveta had to go to the shop to tend to it and (as they confided in Ludwig) hire some more help. He had agreed to stay for a while and watch after Feliciano. They were all hoping the best-friend-alone-time would help push the Italian to start talking. Sadly, he refused to give in so easily.

In the distance a timer dinged and Feliciano groaned as Ludwig got up to find the medicine, this time in an orange bottle. Ludwig sat close by with a glass of water while Feliciano took the awful medicine, though alone this time.

“Feliciano, I’m getting you new clothes.”

“Why?” The panic set in once more.

“You’ve worn those same clothes since you fell ill, _ja_? They’re stained with sweat, you need to change.” The blonde searched through a drawer, pulling out pajamas and even (with a straight face) a fresh pair of brightly colored yellow boxers.

“Fine,” the Italian grumbled. “But you have to leave.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. A moment later there was shuffling and the click of a lock.

Inside Feliciano was filling with fear that Ludwig would find out. He couldn’t, then he would know he’s been lying and stop being his best friend. Feliciano missed the night before when everyone was so nice and loving and everything felt right.

Why did it feel wrong again?

He slipped his shirt off and replaced it, feeling uncomfortable with nudity for once. He slid his pants off, catching on the bandages and unfurling a tiny bit. He was done bleeding so he let it be, confident it wouldn’t undo itself any further. He finished changing and threw the dirty clothes to the floor and hobbled over to unlock the door before quickly getting under his covers.

Ludwig reentered the room and sat with Feliciano again. They watched more TV in an awkward haze. It wasn’t long before Feliciano, still sick, had to lay down and nap for a bit. Ludwig sat with him, occasionally petting his soft hair, making a mental note to force Feliciano into the shower once he was good to stand.   He sat and played around on his phone, checking Facebook out of boredom and settling on a few games before quitting ( _everything he needed to succeed were behind freaking paywalls!_ ) and reading a book he had downloaded.

He was well into the chapter when he heard whimpering from the Italian. He turned his head to see the boy scrunching his face up and his eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Feliciano?” he questioned. There was no response. So he _was_ asleep, and likely having a nightmare. He lightly shook the Italian’s shoulder and repeated his name, wanting to stop the nightmare from getting too far (if he could help it).

Feliciano startled awake and stared directly at Ludwig with wide eyes full of fear. He made a scared and strangled noise before backing up until he fell out of the bed. Ludwig rushed to his side to help him up but instead he thrashed and cried at Ludwig to leave. He panicked and got worse, so Ludwig got up and left the room, listening in from outside the door. It sounded like the sick boy was calming down now that he was gone.

The phrase bounced back into Ludwig’s head: _“Things are finally getting better. Don’t ruin that.”_ And it was true… Feliciano was doing better until Ludwig spent so much time with him. He frowned and walked out to the front porch and sat there. He knew his presence was only panicking Feliciano but he couldn’t just leave him there.

He flipped his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed up a text to Elizaveta:

**He had a nightmare and now I scare him. I’m on the porch to give him space. I think he needs you.**

There was a reply almost immediately. A simple message saying she would return as soon as possible. To not blame himself. He couldn’t help but feel guilty and sat on the porch quietly until the familiar car pulled up with both Edelsteins hurrying out. Elizaveta jumped in the house and Roderich, surprisingly, sat with Ludwig.

“It was just a nightmare,” he said. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“He was so scared he pushed himself off the bed to get away from me,” Ludwig said with a sad voice.

Roderich looked away for a moment. “Come back tomorrow. Feli will be calmed down. I promise, it’s not you.”

Ludwig nodded and stood up, ready to walk back home. It was a rough day for him. He was so sure he was getting through, or at least breaking the surface, and now he had this setback.

Roderich watched him disappear into the distance before he joined his wife inside. She was holding Feliciano and kissing his hair between mumbles.

“It was just a bad dream,” she cooed. “You’re okay.”

“I-I-I kicked out L-Luddy,” he stammered. “He’ll hate me!”

Roderich sat on the bed. “He doesn’t hate you. He needed to go home and he’ll be back tomorrow to see you.”

Feliciano nodded and tried to will away his teary eyes.

Elizaveta continued to mother him and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked away the best he could in the embrace and tried to avoid the topic.

“Remember what I said, Feli? Never be too ashamed to tell us anything.”

Feliciano looked at her. More tears built up before he mumbled about seeing his dad. His angry dad. Roderich took that as a sign to go ahead with his needed topic of discussion.

“We know what he did, Feliciano. Your brother hinted at it a few times and… we understand why you don’t like new people, especially adults… We understand why you’re so scared.”

Feliciano watched him with big eyes. _They knew?_ They found out? Now they’ll want to do it, too, and he couldn’t deal with more beatings right now and all this pressure was just forced on him, making it harder and harder to breathe—

“We love you, _Italy_ ,” Elizaveta cooed into his hair. “We’re going to keep you safe. You don’t have to worry about being hurt anymore. We want to help.”

“You… you know?” he reaffirmed. They nodded. “You… you know they… they beat me the night… the night they…”

He couldn’t say it but they what he meant; he was admitting to the lie about being hurt by random people. He was admitting he was sent to the ER by his parents and wanted to go right back to them.

He was worried they would hate him for the lies and the endangerment (to himself) but instead of the swears and hits he was so used to, he was hugged and given affection. They stayed like that until he began to drift away again. They tucked him in, like a child, kissed on the forehead, and reminded that they loved him before they left for their own beds.

All Feliciano could think of was how he didn’t deserve them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Fix You" by The Offspring**
> 
> _I wish I could fix you_   
>  _And make you how I want you_   
>  _I wish I could fix you_   
>  _And I wish you could fix me_   
>  _I wish I could heal you_   
>  _And mend where you are broken_   
>  _I wish I could heal you_   
>  _And I wish you could heal me_


	11. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self-Harm/Cutting, Suicidal Thoughts**

Feliciano didn’t like how hovering his guardians had been since they talked about the abuse. He had always liked them because they were like parents who didn’t nag him (or beat him), but now they were nearly suffocating. They never worked at the same hours to ensure one was always with him.

He hadn’t been able to release any of his stress due to this and it was driving him up the wall. His legs were healing nicely but were leaving pink lines in his pale skin, like fresh scars.

He was so confused all the time now, torn between the constant negativity in his head and the support and love the Edelsteins and Ludwig were showing him. They would hug him and tell him they loved him and all that TV-parent stuff he had seen, but his mind kept telling him it was useless.

His mind wasn’t a fun place. It was strong and bitter like a shot of vodka and made him just as sick. He could see how loved he was, but he couldn’t feel it. The feeling was numbing and it was scaring him. He couldn’t block out the bad thoughts, the ones that chanted at him that he was just a charity case and it was just some ulterior motive to something. He soon forgot that he was being unrealistic and irrational and believed it all.

Feliciano knew he was trapped in his own head and he was too afraid to break out.

His parents beat him, Lovino left him, Nonno only bothered to see him because of the funeral, and Ludwig was surely growing tired of his constant stream of lies.

Feliciano was once again sitting on the edge of the bathtub, surveying the work he had done on his legs before slashing the knife through a few close cuts to make a macabre tally mark across the skin, jagged and red. The pain burned but he ignored it. He didn’t know why he kept doing this other than the undeniable urges that crept up on him whenever he felt panic or nervous, most feelings really.

He finished up, cleaning up the area as usual and sneaking the knife back into his room. The risk of getting caught was almost worth the cutting itself. Dinner was soon ready and he joined his guardians with his improving joyous poker face. Nothing really made him laugh anymore but he was good at replicating himself from before the badness set in.

Elizaveta and Roderich couldn’t tell he was faking it either, which was the best part. Fake it til you make it—or fake it til everyone else makes it. He made sure to eat all his food, wanting to prove to them that he wasn’t some under-eating nuisance. He did admit to them that he wasn’t used to eating this much (a normal amount of food) because his parents withheld his food money for beer, and half the time at school he couldn’t eat because he lost the money one way or another. They stopped bothering him about his eating habits after that. He genuinely didn’t know any better.

When he showed signs of outward improvement the Edelsteins announced they would both be working most days, even giving Feliciano a hand-written schedule. They still didn’t want him working, this time because he was a kid and should enjoy his youth. Also because they knew it would be suffocating to be with them all day.

So Feliciano worked out a nice schedule for himself; times when he can cut and cry and have total breakdowns so he would still have enough time to make himself presentable when they got back. And when he felt the urges and bad thoughts creep in when the schedule didn’t permit it, he would hold it all in until bedtime where he would come undone and sob as quietly as he could into the pillow.

It was a good system but it was wearing away at him.

He knew it was destroying him and his relaxation methods were absolute bullshit. When he’d tell himself he didn’t deserve this and when he would reach for the phone to talk to someone about anything the thoughts would override him.

_You deserve this. You killed them. They wouldn’t be dead if you weren’t so fucking late all the time. They were so ashamed of you they died to get away._

And so he’d grab the knife instead and start over on his legs.

_Oh, you’re an attention whore now? What are you doing, you’re not doing it deep enough! Hit an artery. Go up to your knee and shred it. Bleed out._

Feliciano threw the knife away and placed his head in his folded arms and let his legs bleed for a moment. He was losing himself and he was in a losing battle against the badness. It was so scary and lonely and he didn’t know what to do. What do you do when you’re worthless and clinging to hope?

What do you do when you want to die but can’t go through with it?

He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes. So it came to this; he actually wanted to die. Not enough to down a bottle of pills or hang himself, no, but he wouldn’t be upset if he was hit by a car or if his heart just stopped.

And he sat there, willing his heart to stop. Stupid thing kept beating instead.

He swallowed back a sob and quickly covered his legs with more bandages and disregarded cleaning anything, skin or blade.

A buzzing from the dresser stopped him and he stumble to it, seeing a few texts from various people

**Alfred : DUDE FELI! Wats the complement 2 orang??**

**Matthew : Ignore Al, he’s had too much sugar. How are you? :)**

**Antonio : I need to ask you something important. Don’t tell Lovi pls!!!**

**Luddy : How are you?**

Four texts? That was like a new record for him. He took in a deep breath and sat down on his unmade bed. Another buzzing and a new text came in,

**Lovino : what is that jerk bastrd saying? Say the word and ill end him**

All these messages meant he was being thought about, didn’t it? If people want to talk to him that had to mean he wasn’t completely worthless.

_But you are._

Feliciano swallowed hard and sent out quick replies before he stared longingly at Ludwig’s name. He wanted someone to make it all better like when he was sick and coddled, but he was afraid. Ludwig would reject him and laugh at him just like whenever Gilbert laughed at him, scaring him.

The last shard of hope left in him encouraged him to send the text.

**Help me.**

_You can’t be helped you little lost cause._

**Please.**

He sat there in his anxious state, doing his best to stop himself whenever he realized the nails digging into his skin. He was ready to hyperventilate, only being stopped by the buzzing.

**Where are you?**

He was so tired and out of it. He barely registered that he had typed a reply or that he got one in return. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting on the floor, curled up with the phone, his lifeline. Ludwig was sporadically texting him and he was soon knocking on the front door. There was no reply so he just went in, heading straight for Feliciano’s room.

It broke his heart to see the Italian sobbing on the floor, surrounded by tissues used to wipe the unending tears away. He kicked aside some stray items and sat next to Feliciano, pulling him to his chest and holding him tighter than he ever had. Feliciano folded into him and burrowed his face into the blonde’s chest, sobbing harshly and trying not to cry. He didn’t want to get his stupid damn tears on his nice shirt.

Unsure of what to do Ludwig started rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair with the other. He murmured random lines in German, knowing Feliciano wouldn’t understand it but knowing he needed to hear something, even if it was confusing.

He didn’t talk in English until Feliciano had stopped sobbing and caught his breath. “Feli, Gott, what happened?” He asked in such a calm and worried voice.

“I…” he hiccupped. “I’m lost,” he squeaked out. “I don’t know _what_ to do or _where_ to go and I’m not _me_ anymore.”

“You’re not you?”

Feliciano nodded against his chest, purposely avoiding eye-contact. “I haven’t been happy in a long time,” he whispered. “I’m tired all the time, and I… I’m miserable…”

Ludwig started rubbing his back again, hoping the small sign of affection would somehow help. “You haven’t been the same since… you know. Just… why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Because I can’t do it anymore,” he mumbled. His voice was losing feeling again and Ludwig wanted the emotional Italian back. “I want to fall asleep and never wake up.”

Ludwig pushed back the tears building up. “You’re going to be okay, Feli. I’ll get you through this.”

The smaller teen pulled away slightly and looked away with the guiltiest expression Ludwig had ever seen. “You’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he assured. “Why would I?”

“Because I fucked up,” the haunting, dead voice whispered. “I fucked up.” His eyes began to fill again but he remained silent as his slowly rolled up his pant legs, exposing the scarred and healing and bandaged legs. Ludwig gasped and stared at the mess before him.

“Oh, Feli…”

The Italian lightly moved his fingertips over the marks marring his once-perfect legs before he rolled the pants back down to cover it.

“Do Roderich and Eliza know?”

“No.”

“Feli, please tell me this… why? Why did you do it?”

A few tears spilled over. “I don’t know anymore. It used to help and now I can’t stop. I… I started with scratching my arms, and now I… I fucked up,” he echoed.

Not knowing what else to do, Ludwig pulled Feliciano into another hug, holding onto him for dear life. A minute passed and Feliciano hugged back, returning to his emotions from the void.

“We’re going to be okay,” Ludwig muttered into the brunette’s hair.

“How do you know?” The emotional teen asked into the blonde hair.

“Because we have to be,” Ludwig whispered. “We don’t have a choice.”

Another bout of crying, this time from both boys, ended with Feliciano agreeing to let Ludwig clean his legs and tentatively remove the knife. Feliciano sat on the edge of the bathtub, wincing as Ludwig took the sticking bandages off and rubbed over the skin with an alcohol-soaked rag. He ended by applying new bandages with some anti-bacterial ointment he found in the back of the medicine cabinet.

Fearing for Feliciano’s legs made him carry the brunette back to the room. Feliciano sat on the bed and watched as Ludwig scrubbed the blood-stained carpet until the dark spot was almost gone. He then stood across from Feliciano with a serious look to his eyes.

“Where is it?”

Feliciano frowned and murmured, “I kicked it under the bed.”

He bent down and, with the aid of his phone as a flashlight, found the stained knife. Ludwig wanted to vomit at the sight of his best friend’s dried blood on the blade. He left the room, cleaned it as best as he could in the kitchen sink, and promptly tossed it in the trash. The idea of anyone using that knife on food made him want to gag. This knife needed to go.

He returned to the room where Feliciano was sitting on the bed and staring at the floor. Ludwig approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Baby steps, Feliciano.”

“Baby steps…”

“Promise me you’ll stop.”

Feliciano turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Stop? What, now?”

“Yes, Feliciano. You can’t keep doing this. You said yourself it doesn’t help.”

This was not turning out anything like he had hoped, though he didn’t think it through. He didn’t want to be alone and now he was without his knife and covered in properly applied bandages.

Feliciano nodded, not happy with the decision, and leaned back in the bed. Ludwig got in with him and, for Feliciano’s sake, cuddled with the depressed teen. It was nice and soothing and Feliciano almost felt loved again.

For the time being, Ludwig didn’t say anything further about the situation or Feliciano not telling him sooner. Things went bad a long time ago and he couldn’t be too surprised that he tried to hide it. They laid together in silence with the occasional sniffle from the Italian.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he whispered into Ludwig’s chest. “Please.”

Ludwig nuzzled the top of his head. “I won’t.” _Unless it was an emergency_ , he told himself.

The day drew darker and Elizaveta and Roderich came home. Ludwig snuck out of Feliciano’s room to greet them and inform them he would be staying the night again, if that was okay with them (and it was), and they would be in his room studying. They were just happy Feliciano was seeing friends again.

Back in the room they sat together and basked in the presence of one another. Ludwig had taken Feliciano’s phone and was programming emergency numbers and services into it. He even found an app for talking anonymously about his problems. He handed the phone back, stating “There are numbers in there, everything is confidential.” He paused and said thoughtfully, “I… I programmed the teen suicide hotline as well, just in case… so you have options.”

Feliciano nodded and prayed to whatever god there was that Ludwig didn’t know he wanted to die despite his earlier _sleeping forever_ comment.

“And, Feliciano,” he said. “Again, you can always talk to me. Any time of the day, just talk to me.”

“S-si, Luddy.”

They spent the last hours of the day in silence again, neither knowing what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Run" by Snow Patrol**
> 
> _To think I might not see those eyes_   
>  _Makes it so hard not to cry_   
>  _And as we say our long goodbye_   
>  _I nearly do_


	12. Silence Louder Than Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self-Harm/Cutting, Suicide Attempt**

The way everyone looked at him was driving him crazy. Matthew looked so worried when he would space out in art and Alfred would hassle him at lunch to eat with them, going as far as to give him money or food when he had none.

Then there was Ludwig. He hated and loved the way Ludwig acted like nothing happened but still threw the occasional worried glance his way. There was a certain level of care that he found irritating and perfect.

So he picked up his Home act and started acting bubbly again to avoid the sad looks and questions. He’d only space out when he was “reading” and he did his best to accept any food Alfred gave him or smile enough for Matthew to stop doubting him.

This slowed Ludwig’s glances but he wasn’t dumb enough to think everything was okay again. He still texted Feliciano most days to check in, usually receiving a cheery reply he couldn’t trust.

At the Edelsteins’ Feliciano rested in his room. The urges were back and he was trying so hard not to scratch himself or “accidentally” run his hip into the doorknob. It built up until he reached into the bedside drawer, forgetting the knife wasn’t there anymore. He stared at the notebook it once hid under and he felt grief bubbling in his throat.

Time for his last option: texting Ludwig. He started with a single word, something he could easily back out of.

**Luddy?**

A buzz and a reply came in no time.

**Yes, Feli?**

He did a double-take at the message. It was weird how Ludwig started calling him by the nickname he had always so adamantly refused to say.

**I’m not doing well**

The next few hours were spent teary-eyed and very emotional for the Italian. He was relieved, though, when he realized the urges had died down.

**I’m sorry Luddy.**

The phone buzzed again.

**Don’t be. I’m always here.**

He set the phone down and felt the shard of hope growing just a bit. His days seemed to drag on like this, full of absolute hopelessness and then some small sign of hope growing before it withered away. It was confusing to be so miserable, then okay, then feeling beyond the realm of help.

Despite the recent talk he felt dead again. This was the quickest he had fallen after cheering up. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be anywhere at all. He scrolled through his phone and started deleting all the emergency lines Ludwig had programmed in a couple weeks before. He didn’t want anything to stop him for even a moment when it was time.

So Feliciano sat up, feeling a new kind of relief washing over him. He was going to be okay, he knew that for sure, because soon enough he would be with his parents again. He could leave this world and its pain behind and fade away. He was raised Catholic (or that’s what his parents yelled at him about when he asked what religion they were when he was eight-years-old) but he was hoping desperately for there to be no God or devil or heaven or hell. He wanted no afterlife. He wanted to stop existing all together.

And the plans he was formulating in his head made him smile. He would be gone in no time! He would live out the rest of the next week or so, finish his earthly deeds, and fade off.

* * *

“Hi, Luddy!”

“Hello, Feliciano.”

The Italian bounced around at his desk and was overall happy. He was back to sketching in a new drawing pad Elizaveta had picked up for him, stating “he needed more things.” Ludwig was pleased to see his friend drawing and doodling again, it was almost like he was the same old Feliciano.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. How did he get better so quick?

“Feliciano,” he drew out. “You haven’t texted me in a while. How have you been?” He prided himself on being able to voice his worries carefully.

“I’m great, Luddy. Look, I got new art supplies!” He held up the spiral-bound pad and a few artist pens in various boldness.

“Are you… are you better?” He asked slowly.

It was surprising to see a small smile grace Feliciano’s lips and an honest answer. “No, but I’m getting there.” He turned his attention back to his drawing and sketched on happily.

The class ended and everything was well in the universe. Ludwig walked out of the school and waved to Feliciano, who was already waiting for one of his guardians to pick him up. He waved back, smiling a little too big.

Ludwig ignored it and made his way down the street and to the awkwardly placed sidewalk. The walk home was nice and peaceful with a gentle breeze every now and again. The deep feeling of worry was just a pebble among boulders now and for the first time since the funeral Ludwig wasn’t worried about his best friend. By now the little brunette knew to call him and he knew he had support. Ludwig knew today would be a good day.

The entire week went by in the same soothing calmness as that day. Each day he would sneak glances at Feliciano drawing away at new pages of the drawing pad and the occasional hum or random smile would come with it.

* * *

It rained that Friday. In the distance between the misty, heavy rain Ludwig could see Feliciano quickly jumping into the same old car as always before it took off. This time the German waited inside the school and sent a quick text to Gilbert asking if he could pick him up between classes.

He waited in the front lobby of the school and was soon met by the blonde twins he knew Feliciano to be good friends with.

“Hey, _Germany_! What’s the deets?”

Ludwig stared at him for a moment before Matthew spoke up. “Sorry, Ludwig. Alfred heard Feli calling us by country names before a big history test the other day and he got excited.”

“Why is that?”

“He got America.”

The three sat together and waited for the rain to stop, which it never did. This led to Alfred bugging Ludwig until he agreed to give them a ride home once Gilbert got there. Gilbert had to finish up a college class before getting Ludwig, so the teens were left for nearly an hour killing time inside the closed school.

“Feli’s been happy lately,” Alfred commented. “He even drew, like, half of my portrait today!”

“You shouldn’t cheat,” Matthew chided.

“He wanted to help! He was done with his and bored!”

They squabbled and made a vein twitch in Ludwig’s forehead. He was ready to yell at them to shut up already when his phone went off.

“Hello?”

_“Get your ass out here!”_

He clicked the END CALL button and motioned the blondes to follow him. They ran out to the sitting car with jackets pulled above their heads. The inside was warm and welcoming compared to the needle-like rain.

“Oh, maple!” Matthew cursed. He swiftly pulled a familiar artist pad from his bag and set it in Ludwig’s lap. “Sorry, Feli forgot it in art. You see him a lot, could you return it to him? I’m sure he’d go nuts if he couldn’t draw all weekend.”

“Ja, I will. _Danke_ , Matthew. I thought it was weird when he napped through study hall. I’ll tell him you found it.”

The rest of the ride was quiet with the occasional road rage-induced swear from Gilbert or the loud air guitar recital Alfred was performing, completely lost in his headphones.

“Screw this, the awesome me is hungry! Do you _kids_ need to be home or are you coming with us to get food?”

Alfred perked up and agreed to food, being that he was always hungry. Matthew sighed and checked his pocket for his wallet. Gilbert took a side road and drove away from their neighborhood.

“Gilbert, do you think we could stop by Feliciano’s afterward? I need to give him something.”

“Whatever, West. You can see your little _boyfriend_.”

“ **GILBERT**.”

The snake-like chuckles filled the car and the twins had a difficult time keeping Ludwig from crashing the car and killing all of them in his sudden desire to murder his older brother.

* * *

Feliciano clicked open the music app on his phone and waited patiently for anything to start playing. He smiled when a band he liked popped up, though it was a song he was unfamiliar with. It didn’t matter much to him, like most things these days.

A quick trip into Roderich and Elizaveta’s room had acquired him some new ammo for his plans. There was a drawer in Roderich’s nightstand that held the medicines he would get for Feliciano, including an extra bottle of pain killers (from the night his parents died) and a few-weeks-old bottle Feliciano hadn’t seen before. He didn’t even bother to read the name on the label when he saw they were sleeping pills.

That was so painfully perfect.

He swiped the bottle and closed all the doors behind him before he went back to his room. The time was four o’clock and he would have roughly five to six hours before his guardians returned home. He sat in his room, back against the locked door, contemplating what he was about to do.

On his bed he had neatly laid out his weapons: the stolen pills, a new knife, and a belt he had never used because it was _just_ too big for his slender waist. There was a torn piece of paper from his notebook and a dying pen in front of him and he prepared himself for his last letter.

Letters were hard to write! The music from his phone continued to play and he decided a little plagiarism wouldn’t kill him. Seriously now, who gives a fuck if a suicide note wasn’t totally original?

He took a shaky hand to the paper and began writing slowly and thoughtfully.

* * *

_Dear Everyone,_

_It’s your friend, Feliciano Vargas. I had a bad dream the other night that you all would stop being my friend! And when I woke up I realized it was too late for that. I’m too far gone and it’s time to leave completely. I know I could be better. I don’t think I deserve it…_

* * *

He continued to write and triple-checked the letter. Once he found he had covered everything important he neatly folded it up and placed it on the bed. Today was his last day so he might as well live it up. He took the knife and trailed a thin line of blood down his arm.

He felt so numb that the knife did nothing to him. His arm bled beautiful release onto his elbow and hand and the floor. He frowned, feeling a new guilt to ruin the carpet again.

His phone buzzed but he ignored it. It wasn’t from either of his guardians (who had their own ringtones to alert him when he _needed_ to check it) so he didn’t care.

The end of the belt was looped through the buckle and he forced the end into the dresser drawer. He slammed his shoulder into the wood and got the belt sufficiently jammed. A small leather noose hung limply from the top drawer and Feliciano grabbed the pill bottle before he gently scooted himself, in a seated position, under and through the noose. It was loose around his neck for now.

He downed a handful of the small capsules, not wanting to OD but fall asleep. As the drowsiness came upon him he placed a bloody hand on the belt buckle and pulled it with a jerk until it touched the back of his neck. Breathing got harder and staying awake was worse.

He desperately didn’t want to be awake while he suffocated. With his last bit of strength he leaned forward and reached both hands back to tighten the little metal rod through a belt hole. The static of the room screamed and it was a deafening silence he was ready to leave behind.

He gasped and gagged and became dizzy. There was a new, warm pressure in his head (he assumed it was the blood being trapped). It was time to be brave, so he closed his eyes and focused on being at peace.

He was unconscious before he could even congratulate himself on dying.

* * *

“Dude, can’t you just give it to him tomorrow? It’s still raining!” Alfred whined. He wanted to go home, not take some unnecessary stop in the pouring cold rain.

“Christ, stop whining,” Gilbert moaned. “ _Fucking_ high school kids…”

“You were there last year.”

“That’s different, West. I was awesome!”

The car rolled into the nice neighborhood and Gilbert looked around for the house. Ludwig checked his phone for the thousandth time and furrowed his eyebrows together when he saw the text that remained ignored. It wasn’t even _seen_ yet (Feliciano had yet to figure out how to disable “seen” notifications).

The worry was back, working its way through his entire being. There was a stabbing in his gut and he _felt_ —no, _knew_ —something was wrong.

They pulled into the driveway and Ludwig ran to the front door, knocking on it loudly with no reply. He smashed the doorbell and got the same lack of response. The doorknob was locked as well and he seemed to have no access to the inside. The lights were on and it was obvious Feliciano was home; he stopped working and was _always_ home.

“Hurry up!” Gilbert yelled from the car. “I have shit to do! _Did you know Antonio’s getting married?!_ ”

“It won’t open!”

Gilbert sighed and turned the car off. Alfred groaned and got out with him, not wanting to be in a freezing car. Surely the house was warmer…

Gilbert ran with the twins to the covered porch and pulled out a discolored key, easily sliding it into the lock and opening the door. Ludwig was too worried to even ask how the hell he had a key to the Edelstein house.

He rushed to Feliciano’s door and saw the light was on, pouring out from the crack under the wood.

“Feliciano?” He hammered his fist on the door. “Feliciano? Open up, I have your sketchbook!”

There was no response but the sound of creaking wood. A new, growing sense of dread became unbearable in seconds before he knew _somehow_ something wasn’t right.

Ludwig turned to the three men behind him, all shocked to see such obvious worry on his face. “We have to get in there,” he said urgently. “Something is wrong!”

Gilbert rushed to his brother’s side and they both began ramming their shoulders into the door. Matthew and Alfred took to calling out to Feliciano, hoping he’d hear them and open up.

The wood around the door splintered and cracked as they smashed into it. They all were afraid now, not knowing what was on the other side. The lock unclicked with the force of the door smacking open. Unseen to them was the damage in the frame, where the metal pieces had chipped out the wood and would permanently prevent the door from even closing.

They rushed in and saw the worst possible sight they could imagine: Feliciano, skin tinting blue, leaning forward, only held up by a belt wrapped tightly around his neck. The blood on his arms were dry and dark and there was a spilled bottle of pills strewn on the bed. Gilbert forced the drawer open and Ludwig caught Feliciano before he fell, using his shaking fingers to remove the belt at lightning speed.

His neck was bruised and marked and his breathing was…

…was he breathing?

Alfred was outside the room, unable to watch, loudly yelling on the phone to send help now _or so help him God_. Matthew stood with him, crying softly.

Gilbert and Ludwig had the small Italian laid on the floor, flat on his back, both trying with all their might to do chest compressions and breathe for him. The lips touching Ludwig’s were cold and chapped and it was hard to breathe when he was crying so heavily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Silence Louder Than Thunder" by The Devil Wears Prada**
> 
> _What would it take for things to be quiet?_   
>  _Quiet like the snow_   
>  _And I know this isn't much_   
>  _But I know I could, I could be better_   
>  _I don't think I deserve it_   
>  _Selflessness, find your way into my heart_   
>  _All stars could be brighter_   
>  _All hearts could be warmer_   
>  _What would it take for things to be quiet?_


	13. Brother

The waiting room of the hospital smelled like a dentist office. It was so heavy in cleanliness that it was disgusting. Ludwig sat with Gilbert, leaning on him, eyes cast down to the floor. Across from them sat the twins, both mortified and trying their best to be quiet in their crying. They were holding hands and soothing each other.

There was a loud banging down the halls and Elizaveta and Roderich rushed into the room like they were embodied storms. Elizaveta rushed to Ludwig, eyes wide with fear.

“What happened?” she begged. “What happened to Feli?”

Ludwig swallowed thickly and turned his puffy eyes to the woman. He was about to speak when a weak sob escaped his lips instead. He hung his head low in a mixture of shame and absolute defeat. Gilbert placed a hand on his back and used the other to motion to the adults to sit by him.

The albino spent the next few minutes quietly telling them what happened, how the doors were locked, how they broke them down, how they saw a bleeding and suffocating Feliciano surrounded by pills.

How he wouldn’t breathe.

Elizaveta gasped and held onto Roderich, who was doing his best to stay calm for her. They still hadn’t been updated on how he was doing. The worst part of this waiting was not knowing if he survived his attempt. When the EMT men took him away they wouldn’t let anyone else come, stating it was family-only. They had to drive themselves and force happy conversation so Gilbert didn’t lose it and wreck the car.

The hardest thing Ludwig had ever done was call Elizaveta at work.

_“You need to get to the hospital, Feli’s hurt.”_

He shuddered at the memory.

_“We don’t know if he’ll make it…”_

Gilbert shuffled at his side and pulled a phone from his pocket. He quietly said to anyone listening, “I’m going to tell Lovino. We didn’t call him yet.”

Everyone was grateful for the albino taking the responsibility. He clicked through his phone and landed on Antonio’s number. The Spaniard picked up almost immediately.

_“Buenas tardes!”_

“Hey, Toni.”

_“What’s wrong? You sound sad.”_

“Something happened. Lovino needs to come back to town. You, too.”

_“What? What happened?”_ In the background Gilbert could hear muffled calls for Lovino to come.

“There was… some unfortunate occurrences…”

The phone crackled and Lovino’s voice replaced Antonio’s. _“What happened? Stop being so fucking cryptic. What’s wrong?”_

“It’s Feliciano.”

Lovino paused. _“Is my fratello… is he dead?”_

Gilbert looked up at the lights and tried to blink away the forming tears.

_“Why aren’t you answering?”_

He wiped a tear away.

_“Fucking answer me, goddamn it!”_

With the weakest voice anyone had ever heard from the albino, he whispered, “I don’t know.”

On the other end Antonio took the phone back as Lovino sank to his knees and began sobbing into his hands. _“We’ll be there by tomorrow.”_

“He’s in the hospital,” Gilbert added. “We all are.”

_“Text me the name of it. I have to go get ready.”_

After the phone call was done he hung his head and started crying weakly, much like his brother next to him. It was bad enough Feliciano was possibly dead, even worse that it was self-inflicted—but it was absolutely heartbreaking to hear Lovino breaking down when Antonio took the phone back. He already lost his parents and now his brother?

* * *

Lovino sat in the passenger seat with a box of tissues and a blanket, both things Antonio made him bring for naps and cries. It was dark out and they had been driving for almost two hours already. The Italian stared lifelessly out the window and was so quiet it was unnerving.

“He’ll be okay,” Antonio said in a hushed tone.

“If he dies, I’m going next,” Lovino whispered.

“Don’t say that.”

Lovino put his head against the window and sniffled.

“Get some sleep, _mi amor_. I’ll put on some music for you. You like lullabies.” It was disconcerting to see Lovino didn’t even scowl at the lullaby crack. He put his eyes back on the dark road and blindly hit the radio buttons.

_“Sleep now, under my skin._

_Make sure you try to conjure the wind and ease my mind.”_

Lovino held the box of tissues close and tightened the blanket around his shoulders.

_“Somebody call out to your brother! He’s calling out your name!_

_Hiding under the covers with no one else to blame._

_You couldn’t help out your own neighbor, you couldn’t tell it to his face,_

_You were fucked up by the blame.”_

Antonio hit the radio button again, muttering “I don’t really like this song,” before changing it. Hopefully to a song less about brothers.

After an eternity of driving they were pulling up to the hospital Gilbert had texted to them. They walked in, Lovino still wrapped in his blanket, finding the waiting room full of Feliciano’s friends. It was almost two in the morning and most of the guests were asleep in the uncomfortable chairs. Ludwig, however, was still awake. He glanced up at the duo and they sat down with them. Lovino used his free hand to hold onto Antonio’s for dear life.

“What happened?” Lovino asked in a tired and defeated voice. It amazed Ludwig how alike the brothers sounded when they were depressed.

“Suicide attempt,” he simply said, sparing the awful details.

“Who found him?”

“I did.”

Lovino turned his blurry green eyes to the blonde. “I’m glad it was you. If he… if he makes it, he’ll be happy to know it was his best friend.”

It wasn’t until past three that a nurse came out to alert them of the situation. Ludwig nudged Gilbert awake, who woke up the Edelsteins in turn. Alfred and Matthew woke up from the commotion and the eight of them all watched the nurse with intense stares that demanded answers.

She turned to Elizaveta and Roderich. “Are you his guardians? The Edelsteins?”

“Yes,” they replied simultaneously.

“The good news is he’s alive and we’ve got him stable.”

Roderich cleared his throat. “And the bad news?”

“He’ll have to stay here for a while. To recover from his physical injuries and to spend time in the psych ward.”

“Psych ward?” Lovino sputtered. “The fuck for?”

“He’s Feli’s brother,” Elizaveta quickly told the nurse.

The nurse looked at the papers in her hands. “We keep patients who attempt suicide for a few days to ensure they don’t hurt themselves again.”

Lovino’s face fell. He hated the confirmation. He hated that his brother would do this to himself. The nurse announced family could visit him if they wanted, which led to the three crowding around her to find out where the room was.

Ludwig watched as Lovino, Elizaveta, and Roderich walked away and out of sight. He was just happy Feliciano was alive. Alfred and Matthew both stood up and announced they were going to head home and come back to visit when it wasn’t family-only. They said their goodbyes and Alfred cursed when he saw the missed calls from his parents on his phone.

Meanwhile Lovino was standing by his brother’s bed, watching his pale brother sleep. Elizaveta was gently stroking Feliciano’s hair from the other side of the bed and Lovino felt sick at the sight of the bandages and IV lines and restraints. Christ, he had a _breathing_ mask.

A silent tear slipped down his cheek as he grabbed Feliciano’s hand, careful to avoid the IV. “ _Fratello_ …”

He never thought he’d love the sound of his little brother’s breathing until now. To see that gentle face relaxed and asleep without a care in the world was amazing. Poor Feliciano couldn’t catch a break; he was never safe, even from himself.

Lovino refused to leave his brother’s side after that. The nurse was understanding and brought over a chair from the side of the room for him, which he took gratefully. Elizaveta and Roderich decided Lovino would be enough for Feliciano to wake up to, and they knew how panicked he could get, so they quietly left the room and rejoined the waiting room.

“Lovi’s staying with Feli tonight,” Elizaveta told Antonio. With that the remaining worried people sat together and fell asleep.

* * *

Everything was warm. Warm and soft and felt  _amazing_ . Was he dead? Is this death? He should have died earlier! Feliciano felt content with himself at that moment, but that moment ended abruptly when he registered his right hand—the hand that felt warm and somewhat sweaty.

Then the annoying constant beeping.

Then the air blown into his face.

He groaned internally; he wasn’t dead. He was most certainly alive and most certainly disappointed. What was even happening? Where was he? Was that a phone beeping, or a microwave?

The hand holding his shuffled but never let go. He heard the grumbling of his older brother, something he used to hear daily before he moved out.

“Goddamn it, _fratello_ ,” he whispered. “You better wake up.” There was a weakness in his voice Feliciano had never heard before, even when his parents beat them. Was that a sniffle? Was Lovino crying?

Lovino tightened his hold on the hand and sobbed for a moment, only stopping when he heard the raspy reply:

“Okay.”

He stared wide-eyed at his brother, who watched him with droopy eyes from the medicine they were pumping into him. There was a small, sheepish smile on the younger’s face and Lovino hugged him roughly, crying, “You fucking smartass!” He hugged him so tightly and so anxiously. Feliciano wanted to reciprocate but found he couldn’t lift his arms.

Lovino parted with him and hit a call button to bring the nurse back. “Sorry, _fratello_. They told me to call a nurse when you woke up.”

Feliciano frowned and felt a hollow space where the anxiety usually swelled up. He didn’t know what medicine he was on but it was _great_. A nurse popped into the room and thanked Lovino before tending to Feliciano. He was so drowsy from the medicine that he couldn’t pay attention to the women checking his IV’s and bandages.

She left quickly and they were alone again. Lovino took Feliciano’s hand again and kissed it. “I was so worried. Never do that again,” he softly scolded. “I couldn’t go on if you left.”

Feliciano closed his eyes. “Don’t say that, fratello.”

“Then don’t ever try that again,” he warned.

Elizaveta and Roderich appeared in the door and rushed to the bedridden teen. Elizaveta was loving on him, stroking his cheek and petting his hair. Roderich came by Lovino’s side and watched the scene.

“We’re so relieved to see you again,” Elizaveta said. Her voice was growing weaker and she looked like she was ready to break down again.

“ _Mi dispiace_ ,” Feliciano mumbled. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He didn’t think he’d have to face anyone after the (failed) attempt.

“You almost left us,” she cried

“We’re glad to see you awake,” Roderich cut in. He knew it would be best to avoid getting overly emotional again.

“Yes,” Elizaveta added. “And when you get out we’re going to have to redo your room. That guest room was much too small! How would you like the other one, near the kitchen? We’ll paint it and get you new blankets instead of those old, dusty ones.”

Feliciano’s eyes switched between the two guardians. “You mean you still want me?”

“Always,” she promised.

“I ruined the carpet,” he mumbled.

“It was an ugly one anyway,” Roderich said.

“Yeah, fuck that carpet.” They all stared at Lovino and his extreme words, then they all began to laugh. “I mean it, that piece of shit made me want to gouge my fucking eyes out.”

Feliciano laughed until he began to cough, which opted Elizaveta to continue mothering him. She rubbed his cheek with her thumb and he leaned into it like a cat, ready to accept the love he was given.

“You should see that potato bastard,” Lovino interrupted. He combed a hand through his hair and looked off to the side. “He’s been waiting a while. I’ll get him.” Without a glance back he left, leaving the mismatched family staring at the door. It was universally known that he _hated_ Ludwig for whatever reason. Today was a strange day.

A few minute later Ludwig was in the room and the Edelsteins were leaving to give them privacy. Ludwig sat in Lovino’s old chair and the two friends just stared at each other. Feliciano was feeling guilt build up and his eyes watered.

“It’s okay, Feliciano,” Ludwig interrupted. His voice was tired and dry. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“I lied,” he sniffled. “I didn’t keep my promise.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“But—”

“Don’t get worked up over it. It’s in the past.” He took Feliciano’s used hand in his own and they sat together quietly like the night Feliciano first admitted his problems. The Italian fell asleep and Ludwig, exhausted from the past day, laid his head down and joined him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Brother" by Matt Corby**
> 
> _Wait there_   
>  _Pull yourself out of this state dear_   
>  _Acknowledge you were a fake here_   
>  _From there on you might just grow_   
>  _Oh oh oh_


	14. Civilian

When he woke up again he was told by Elizaveta that he was officially on the hospital’s suicide watch and wasn’t allowed to leave for a few days or even _move_. He got used to the restraints after a little while. He was too tired to care and he didn’t move unless he forgot he was immobilized. It was a hard three days. His guardians, of course, stayed with him in shifts, taking turns going home to shower or check in with the new employees at the shop.

He was genuinely happy the day the nurses took the restraints off and told him he was to be discharged that day. Roderich entered the room with a bag of fresh clothes and helped him change while Elizaveta filled out some papers and spoke with a doctor about possible therapists to send Feliciano to see in the near future.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Feliciano groaned when the sleeve of his shirt rubbed against the bandage on his hand where the IV was removed. He was tired and weak and had to sit in the bed while Roderich dressed him like he would a child. They finished up and a nurse came by with a wheelchair. They wheeled him to the front of the hospital and Roderich carried him to the car. It was very reminiscent of _that_ night.

They rode home and Roderich once more was helping Feliciano inside the house and to his new room, the second guest room. Feliciano eyed the door to his old room.

“Why is there a new door?”

Roderich settled him into his new bed. “It was broken down.” Feliciano was ready to apologize again when he was stopped. “It’s just a door.”

The Austrian picked up the fluffy comforters and laid them across Feliciano’s legs before he turned to the TV and flipped it on. The man had an affinity for moving TV’s into the boy’s room.

Then he sat in bed next to the Italian. “It’s a lazy day,” he simply said. Elizaveta came into the room with a tray of food and sat it on Roderich’s lap before she sat down on Feliciano’s other side. The three of them spent their day in that bed, refusing to leave one another. When night came they still remained, getting under the covers and sandwiching Feliciano between them. The bed was big enough to fit them comfortably and the Italian snuggled into the overstuffed pillows. Both guardians kissed him on the head before he fell asleep.

And they were there when he woke up from a nightmare hours later. Elizaveta held him and cooed to him while Roderich went to find something comforting, returning with a glass of water and a book.

They laid him back down in his blankets and they told him they loved him. Roderich read some stories from a book of fairy tales and Feliciano was resting easy once more.

A few mornings later he woke up to Elizaveta sitting next to him and knitting something.

“Good morning, Feli,” she chirped. “Roddy went out earlier but he should be back soon.”

He groaned in response, still dead tired. His neck and arm were hurting but he felt too bad to ask for medicine given that he did it to himself.

Elizaveta reached over and handed him two small pills. “Don’t even think about being brave. Take this.”

He smiled and took the medicine before laying back down and waiting for it to kick in. In the living room he could hear Lovino swearing at Antonio to stop being ‘ _such a jerk bastard so early in the morning_.’ Said Spaniard came to Feliciano’s room, where the door was ajar, and poked his head in with a cheery greeting of “ _Beunos dias_!”

From the living room there was a pillow-muffled “ _Shut the fuck up!_ ” which made Feliciano giggle. They could hear the front door open and shut, signaling Roderich was back. Another swear from Lovino ( _“What the fuck!”_ ) and a few steps later he was in Feliciano’s room while Antonio scooted out to see what was distressing Lovino.

He sat on the bed and opened up a paper bag, taking out an orange bottle with Feliciano’s name printed on it. Feliciano frowned, automatically knowing they were depression pills. Some therapist had visited him at the hospital during his watch and talked to him a bit before writing a prescription.

He didn’t like the idea, nor did he like it when Elizaveta had told him on his last day there that he would have to start going to therapy.

“I know it sucks,” Roderich said, holding out the bottle. “But you need these.”

Feliciano frowned more when Roderich opened the bottle and poured out a small, blue pill. Feliciano pulled the puppy eyes out which effectively guilt tripped the Austrian.

“Take it or you don’t get your present.”

Feliciano sat up abruptly. “Present?”

Roderich and Elizaveta smiled. “Yes, we got you a surprise. I can’t very well return it so you better take the medicine,” he jabbed.

The pill was placed in his shaky hand and he watched it for a moment before he slowly brought it to his lips and swallowed it. Elizaveta made him turn to her and open his mouth to prove he took it.

“Alright, Roddy. Go get it,” she hummed. The teen flushed in embarrassment. Roderich nodded to his wife and left. When he returned he had something unexpected cradled in his arms:

A cat.

The cat was mellowed out and purring in the Austrian’s arms. It was white with brown patches on its head, leg, and tail. There was a slight curl in his fur to the side of his head.

“His name is Gino,” Roderich told him. “He’s a rescue cat.” The cat began to struggle and jumped onto the bed, tucking and rolling into the mass of blankets. Gino wiped his face with his tiny paw before jumping onto Feliciano’s lap. He was impossibly soft and affectionate and continuously rubbed his face against Feliciano’s stomach.

“Oh, kitty _kitty_!” He cooed down to Gino.

Roderich and Elizaveta left the room, sure to leave the door open, and moved to the living room where Lovino was groggily sitting up and trying his best to be mad at Antonio.

“You jerk bastard,” he growled at Roderich. “Who just dumps a fatass cat on people? I was trying to sleep!”

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after your daily siesta. Besides, I needed to put him somewhere. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“I can’t believe you got him a cat. Feli basically _is_ a cat.”

“Cats get lonely,” Elizaveta said airily.

* * *

Ludwig stopped by later that day to check in on Feliciano. He hadn’t seen him since the hospital and the Italian wasn’t responding to his texts much (being caught up in the wave of affection and constant movie nights at home). What he wasn’t expecting when he entered the house was the new door and the distinct smell of a litter box.

It wasn’t much of a surprise later when he entered Feliciano’s room and saw the furry bundled cat on the Italian’s lap while he stroked him behind the ears.

“Since when do you have a cat?” he asked, positive he had never seen it before.

“Since this morning,” Feliciano hummed. He still seemed off, speaking somewhat quietly and less excitedly than he used to.

Ludwig took a seat on the bed and reached a tentative hand out to the purring feline, who lifted his head and licked his pale fingers.

“Aw, he likes you,” Feliciano cooed.

“He looks like he would enjoy anyone.”

“That is true.”

“It looks like he doesn’t do much.”

“That is also true.”

Feliciano was feeling the effects of the damn pills he was given already. He knew there wouldn’t be a drastic change, which was movie bullshit. The painkillers had dulled the ache in his neck and arm and the blue pill made him feel unnatural but just a sliver better, like he could hold onto the idea of being happy again rather than let it slip through his fingers as it always had. Or was it this loving little cat that made him feel like there was hope again? The last few days have been so groggy and tiresome that he didn’t know who did what anymore, or what he even felt other than slight disdain.

Sure, he appreciated all the love and the visit from his best friend, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of it being forced. It was like they were pretending but he couldn’t figure out why other than to perhaps make themselves feel better to help the poor orphan boy.

Nothing made sense and the trip to the hospital and the pills didn’t change that. He felt too guilty to even tell anyone that, while he loved the affection and attention, he hated it all the same. It still felt wrong in the afterglow.

“How have you been faring?” Ludwig interrupted his thoughts. “Be honest.”

That was an idea. Feliciano frowned and thought for a moment—it couldn’t hurt to talk about it. He did it once and it felt good, and now that everyone knew about his problem it wasn’t like he had anything to lose anymore. “Not okay.”

“Not okay? Why, what’s bothering you?”

The brunette looked at him with sad eyes. “I don’t like this. Everyone knows what I did and I don’t like that I failed. I was on suicide watch and it was really lonely when Roddy or Eliza weren’t there.” He took a breath. “And now they’re making me take medicine that’s supposed to make me not want to kill myself and they said they’re gonna send me to therapy.”

Ludwig wasn’t expecting an actual answer but was glad to get one nonetheless. “This is just something you need to get through. You remember being happy, _ja_? You’ll get back to that and you’ll be plenty happy you failed.”

“But I won’t get back to that,” he whispered. “My parents are still dead.”

“You’ll learn to live without them.”

“How? I wasn’t even this miserable until they fucking died,” he hissed lightly. Gino startled and stood up, rubbing against his owner, standing on his hind legs and using his front paws on Feliciano’s shoulder to get to his chin.

“So your depression started when your parents passed,” Ludwig observed.

“It would have happened either way, I’m sure.”

The blonde stared at him. “Why are you so sure?”

“Because it wasn’t until they died that I realized how… how much _better_ it could have been. I would have realized eventually. I think living here just delayed it. Because… because how could I want to off myself so soon when I finally had a nice home instead of that _house_?”

Ludwig sat silently and tried to make sense of what his friend was telling him. So Feliciano either would have been depressed through his parents’ death (totally understandable, losing a family)… or he would have become depressed at home, where his parents were alive, because… because…

“Feliciano… what was it about your old home that makes you think you would have become depressed there?”

The little Italian met his eyes and the same hopeless look came back to his face, just like the day he showed Ludwig the cuts. “Ask Lovino,” he sighed. “I don’t care if you know, but I can’t… I just can’t talk about it again.”

_Fuck it_ , Feliciano told himself. All in. What was the point in keeping secrets when he was just going to kill himself the next chance he gets? He hated making everyone so sad, as he realized from his first attempt, but he figured he deserved to get this one thing: to choose how he died when he didn’t have the choice to choose how he lived. It was his one selfish act he was willing to act on.

The German quietly apologized and gently hugged his broken friend. Elizaveta appeared at the door with a smile, quickly asking, “Ludwig, how would you like to spend the night? We could use some more nice young men around here!”

His face flushed and he sputtered.

“Of course you’re staying,” Austria butted in from the hall. “I already set the table for six.”

Inside Feliciano was distressed to have his friend over again. He was already so emotional and coddled that he didn’t want to be seen like this, it was hard enough to handle visitors! But he couldn’t let anyone know it bothered him, no. Instead he put on a poker face and faked joy to be with his friend all night. He may be willing to talk every once in a while, as he did before, but he didn’t know if he could handle being honest all night. There was no turning back now and he suddenly regretted opening up so soon.

That dinner was the first one Elizaveta had let Feliciano eat at the table instead of in his room. It was almost like the way things were before, except Feliciano was quieter than usual. Everyone had grown used to the young teenager acting differently and would rather him act how he felt than the front he had been putting up for so long and so well.

He felt almost normal being there with his friends and family, eating an actual dinner. His parents never did this, at least not since he was a young boy. Things would be complete if only Nonno were there.

And after dinner they gathered in the living room and watched TV. Lovino was caught off guard by a suddenly playful Gino attacking the curl on his head, which bobbed as the energetic cat played with it. It wasn’t until Antonio pulled the cat away and distracted him with some yarn Elizaveta had left out that Lovino could have some peace.

After a few episodes of some show, Feliciano yawned and went to his room. As the new house rules said, he left his door open before he retreated to bed. Elizaveta and Roderich eventually went in to say their goodnights to him but found he was already fast asleep with Gino trying to jump into bed with him.

Ludwig remained in the living room, unsure of what to do.

“His old room is still being fixed up,” Antonio told him, sensing the mood. “So you can go sleep in his bed with him. He would like that.”

“ _Ja_ , he is rather affectionate.”

Lovino scoffed. “Fucking potato bastard, trying to get close to my _fratello_.”

Ludwig shook his head and was ready to get to bed early when he remembered what Feliciano had said. _Ask Lovino_.

“Hey, Lovino?” He called. “Could I ask you something?”

“ _Hmph_. What is it?”

“Earlier I was speaking with Feliciano and he said he would have become depressed whether he was here or at his old home. He told me to ask you about his home life. Could you enlighten me? He said he couldn’t talk about it…”

The older Italian watched him and took in what he said. He didn’t want his fiancé to find out this way, but it was important…

“Come with me.” He stood and walked to the office and closed the door behind them. Antonio leaned against a wall and Ludwig and Lovino took the two seats that were near the desk. “If you speak a word of this to anyone outside this house I _will_ end you.” He glanced back to his fiancé before adding, “That goes for the both of you.”

They each nodded and urged Lovino to continue.

“Alright. Get comfortable, this is a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hospital scene is my best attempt at something somewhat realistic, mistakes were likely made. And no, medicine for depression wouldn't kick in after the first dose. It could take weeks, even months, to start working. It took my anxiety meds (which also treat depression) around a month to work, and then it took a few dose changes to get it where it needed to be.
> 
> For people not familiar with how these kind of meds work, they can make you very anxious and emotional at first. They don't fix your problem, they make it easier to cope.
> 
> **"Civilian" by Wye Oak**
> 
> _I am nothing without pretend_   
>  _I know my thoughts_   
>  _Can't live with them_   
>  _I am nothing without a man_   
>  _I know my faults_   
>  _But I can't hide them_


	15. Say Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Past child abuse**

“Feliciano and I didn’t have the best childhood. Our parents were great up until I was almost nine. It was so long ago I hardly remember it, but I think dad lost his job and mom was already kind of bitchy before that, but they were good parents. Dad couldn’t find a job and just sat at home, going through the wanted ads, making calls, then drinking until mom got home.

“Feli was so young, he didn’t know what was going on. I did, though. I remember going to school and not having lunch because they couldn’t afford to send me food or money. They were too proud to apply for the school’s free lunch program. That was a _fun_ year.

“Dad stopped looking for jobs after a year and spent his time drinking. Mom turned into an _ultra bitch_ and all they did was fight. I used to have to sneak food from the fridge so I could feed Feli and myself. My parents tried to restrict our diets to ‘ _save money_.’ There’d be less food and more beer every day. I had to feed and bathe and put him to bed and tell him mom and dad aren’t fighting, _it’s just a loud movie._

“Then one day I got home from school and I had a failed test I needed them to sign because my bitch grade school teacher required us to show our parents we failed. They were so mad that… my dad was drunk… and he started hitting me.”

Antonio gasped. “I didn’t know—you never told me—I, I—”

“Shut it, it’s over now,” Lovino shushed. “Anyway. After that dad would hit me for stupid little things, like catching me sneaking food or closing the door too loudly when he was hung over. My parents prided themselves on the idea that it was _only_ dad beating _only_ me. Mom and Feli were clean of it.

“And Feli got older and would get hit as well. Usually he would go to our room and hide under the covers and cry, but that was just when it started. I think he was ten when they started on him. Before then he was just yelled at every once in a while and wasn’t fed much. I got the most of it since I was the oldest and I tried to stick up for him.

“Then mom started drinking just as much as dad. She lost her job and had to find some shitty one that would take her. They started beating the both of us, but it was usually just hitting us until Feli cried or until they felt they proved their point. They only ever bruised us.

“I turned eighteen and couldn’t take it anymore. I left after the night they took it too far. Feli was on an overnight field trip, which they only let him go on because it was ‘free.’ I remember pawning dad’s wedding ring to get him the money. Bastard didn’t even know it was gone.

“So I got home late from school one day; I had to stay behind to work on a group project at the library. It was either the school or someone’s house and they all live far away, I would have had to walk hours to be back.

“I got home and they went ballistic, screaming at me and blaming me for whatever was happening at the time. I was tired and yelled back… they didn’t like that. So they both started beating on me and my bastard father smashed his beer bottle over my fucking head. I woke up the next day on the floor. They fucking left me right there. I was surprised I didn’t get a concussion or something else awful. They did _hit me on the fucking head_.

“They were gone when I woke up and I waited at home until it was time for Feli’s trip to let out. I walked to his school, picked him up, brought him back home, and I packed my shit. It was raining that day…”

* * *

_The rain pounded on the wrecked house and seeped in through the cracks higher on the walls. Lovino was shoving everything he had into a black duffel bag. Feliciano sat on their bed and watched him with a confused face while Lovino swore and stumbled around from his head injury and shoved a few more shirts into the bag._

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“You know how it is living here. I can’t fucking take this any longer.”_

_Feliciano’s eyes shined with tears. “But—you can’t just leave! What am I going to do without you? Fratello!”_

_Lovino zipped the bag and grabbed his hidden stash of money from the pencil jar on the desk. “Then come with me.”_

_“I can’t,” he whined. “I’m only thirteen.”_

_Lovino looked him in the eyes. “Hey, no crying. I can’t live here. Those bastards hate me and they’ll kill me if I stay long enough. They like you more, they won’t be as hard on you. If you’re willing to stay here, fine, just be careful, fratello. Never be late and don’t provoke them. I’ll come back for you when you’re older and we’ll leave this shithole behind. Got it?”_

_Feliciano wiped a tear from his eye and nodded sadly. Lovino hugged him before he got up and left the house. He paused at the entryway of the front door, shivering against the chilled air and the needle-like rain that pounded down. Lovino glanced behind him, spotting his brother standing outside their room, watching him with wet eyes and barely-concealed sobs. He was so thin and so pale._

_Lovino turned back, slipping his favorite (and only) jacket off, giving one last glance at the embroidered red tomato on the breast. He then slid it over his little brother’s shoulders before giving him a final hug and walking out into the pouring rain in only his T-shirt to protect him against the chill._

* * *

“I had a month left of school but I couldn’t go. I had to drop out and lived in a homeless shelter for a few months before I met Antonio at a park.” He looked sheepishly at his fiancé, mumbling, “I, uh… when we met remember what I told you?”

Antonio smiled and relayed, “You said you were at the park because you had nothing better to do and you were spending some time there while it was bright out.”

“Yeah, well, I was living on a bench there for a week when we met. Didn’t think you’d like talking to a homeless person.”

Antonio’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Yeah, so back to Feli… After I left things seemed to get worse. I would call home every once in a while but Feli stopped answering when he got a job. And he got that job to not be home and not be hit, for future reference. And the money he made was probably the only reason he ever ate or could get school supplies.

“And as it turned out, when I left it turned _all_ the heat on Feliciano. I didn’t know it would be so bad, I just wanted to be free but I fucked over my brother. Our parents were both used to drinking and unemployment and they weren’t afraid to beat Feli as often as they pleased. Feli is a sensitive kid, very malleable… when I’d visit him, I’d catch him saying some shit about how he was late home from work and mom and dad beat him. The worst part was he didn’t even sound mad. He fucking _accepted_ it, he talked like he deserved it. I hate that he had to grow up to accept abuse.

“The… the day I came back for the funeral planning, I talked to him. I saw his bruises and the bandages. He told me what happened and I couldn’t believe it. They never went so far that _I_ needed to go to the hospital, yet they beat Feli half to death and left him there alone.

“And that is why I hate my bastard parents and that is why Feli is… like _this_.”

Ludwig hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. He had no idea Feliciano was being abused by his parents, but all the signs had been there. Feliciano always being hungry and taking whatever Ludwig gave him, Feliciano being afraid of strangers to the point of paranoia ( _because they might want to hurt him_ ), why Feliciano was so freaked out by him when he woke from a nightmare… Why Feliciano thought he’d kill himself if he was home long enough to realize what was happening _wasn’t_ okay.

_Oh god_. That was why he was so nervous all that time ago when he told Ludwig about the parent-teacher meeting.

_“I’m fine.”_

_“That’s not true. You’re obviously upset by something.”_

_“My dick English teacher has a meeting with my parents today… Because I’m late to class too much…”_

_“Don’t let it bother you, Feliciano. You’ll feel better once you get it over with.”_

_“Yeah, you’re right…”_

_“Deep breaths, Feliciano. You’ll feel better when you get back home.”_

He felt so horrible. He had no idea that home was the last place Feliciano wanted to be. His throat tightened and his eyes stung from the need to cry for his friend. He turned his attention back to Lovino, who was being hugged and coddled by an emotional Antonio.

“Um, Lovino…?”

The Italian looked up. “What?”

“Thank you for sharing that with us. I think I understand Feliciano a little better now.”

Lovino nodded back, no insult at hand, and Ludwig left the office. It was unbelievable how Feliciano couldn’t catch a break. He went to Feliciano’s room, quietly sliding through the open door. Gino was fast asleep against Feliciano’s legs and looked content with the world. Feliciano, on the other hand, looked miserable for someone sleeping. He had a small frown and furrowed eyebrows, as if he was upset by something.

Not knowing what to do—what might help or hurt him—Ludwig eased himself on the bed, laying down under the top blanket as not to disturb Feliciano (who was under another blanket and the sheets). Gently he reached his hand out, resting his elbow on the bed between them, and started moving his fingers through Feliciano’s soft hair. He grew bolder and lightly scratched the Italian’s scalp with his trimmed nails, much like he would do to his dogs at home. Slowly Feliciano’s face eased and became more peaceful, though not entirely there.

As he did his best to soothe the boy, he could hear Antonio mumbling his condolences to Lovino’s lost childhood.           In response were some half-hearted swears and to stop worrying about the past, since the past was as dead as his parents.

And he caressed Feliciano’s hair some more before his arm grew numb. Moments passed after his closed his eyes and he was out like a light, his last thoughts full of concern for his suffering friend.

* * *

Outside the bedroom Lovino was growing irritated with Antonio’s growing worry. They were still sleeping on the couch, sharing the small space each night. The blankets and pillows had been set on the floor and Lovino began picking them up and trying to block out Antonio’s constant stream of soft worries.

“Christ, do you ever shut up?” He growled. “I’m fine. It was forever ago. Stop whining or _you’re_ going to be the bottom from now on!”

Antonio paused but his worried expression did not fade. “Lovi, we’ve been together almost five years. You never mentioned it, not a single time.”

“So what? Is it so wrong to want to forget the past?”

“No, but the past is still haunting us. You say it’s dead but it lives on in your brother right now. Lovi, I never knew you went through so much. It’s just… why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

Lovino paused and refused to look at his lover. “That’s not it at all.”

“Then why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

The younger man shuddered and Antonio recognized the hidden tears. He turned him around, Lovino turning his face away, not wanting to look directly at him.

“I... I didn’t want you to know. I thought you’d worry. And the worst part… I was afraid if I thought about it or said anything, I’d think of how much of a bastard I was to leave Feli there. I couldn’t live there with him and I expected him to make it alone,” he sobbed. “And you’d know I was a bastard for leaving him there, and you’d leave me, too…”

The Spaniard shushed him and held him. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. It’s okay, it’s okay…” They laid on the couch embraced until Lovino fell asleep, eyelashes still wet with tears. Antonio gently wiped them away and pulled a blanket over the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Say Something" by A Great Big World**
> 
> _And I... I'm feeling so small_   
>  _It was over my head_   
>  _I know nothing at all_   
>  _And I... will stumble and fall_   
>  _I'm still learning to love_   
>  _Just starting to crawl_


	16. Illusion

It was not much of a surprise when Ludwig woke up to find Feliciano was cuddling into his warm, broad chest. That seemed to always happen whenever the two slept in close quarters, depression or not. Hoping to start his day a little brighter, Ludwig reached out and scratched Feliciano’s head behind his ear. The Italian smiled in his sleep and cuddled further into the blonde, nuzzling his nose against his chest. Well, that didn’t go as planned. He eased up and let him sleep in a little longer.

A few minutes later Feliciano was yawning and waking up ever so slowly. He was partially awake now but felt so warm and comfortable that he latched onto Ludwig’s arm and used him as a teddy bear.

“Feliciano,” Ludwig grumbled.

“Five more minutes,” he said sleepily. Ludwig sighed and gave in, wrapping his free arm around the Italian and letting him get comfy.

“Fine, but only five. I’m counting.”

Feliciano smiled against his arm and snuggled in his safe little nest of blankets, a German man, and a cat. It was warm and safe and perfect in every way. He actually forgot how depressed he was and laid there, not thinking of suicide or cutting or crying. It was so intensely peaceful that he wanted it to never end.

He woke up another hour later, this time to Ludwig being asleep. As it turns out they were both tired and Ludwig had no intentions of actually keeping count of time and, if he did, couldn’t make it that long before passing out.       

So Feliciano continued to rub against his chin like a cat and cuddle him and be overly affectionate like his old self until the German man woke up, flushing when he realized what was happening.

Once they were awake they sat up and Feliciano groaned and rubbed his sore neck. Ludwig frowned and popped out of the room, finding Roderich to get the pain meds he knew were necessary, and popped back in handing the Italian the white pills with a glass of water. Feliciano smiled as a thanks and took the medicine quietly. He was surprised when Ludwig placed a third pill in his hand: a cyan-and-white capsule.

“But Luddy,” he whined, batting his eyelashes.

“Feliciano.” That look of understanding was pleading. Feliciano frowned and took the pill just to make him stop. “Very good. Thank you, Feliciano.”

The Italian laid back down on his soft pillows, waiting patiently for the pain medicine to start working before he tried to get up and do anything. Ludwig sat with him and played with his hair again and Feliciano wondered what he did to deserve such wonderful friends.

“I was thinking,” the blonde started. “Maybe we could go out and do something today.”

“Go out? But I wasn’t even allowed out of bed until last night,” Feliciano replied.

“Well, I talked to Roderich earlier and he thought it’d be a good idea for you to get out of the house and get some fresh air. Scientifically speaking it should help your depression.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Yes you are,” he corrected. “Do you want to go out?”

“What if people see me?” Feliciano self-consciously touched his neck, tracing the fading ache of the still present bruise. “They’ll know.”

“That’s what scarves are for.”

Feliciano sat up and gave his friend a hopeful look. He may be full of self-doubt and loathing, but he did like the idea of getting out of the house he had been bound to.

“There’s a new movie out, I thought you might want to see it.”

Feliciano smiled wide. “I got to watch a lot of TV with Roddy. I didn’t have a TV at my old house. Which movie? I saw so many commercials and there was one for some weird towel that picked up everything and the salesman was creepy and he kind of reminded me of a shark and—”

“Calm down, Feliciano,” Ludwig chuckled. It was nice seeing him act the way he used to. “I’ll take that as a yes to any movie. Do you need to get showered before we go?”

“… _Si_ , I’ve been in bed for a while.”

“Roderich said you might need some help, considering your arm. I’ll go get him—”

“No!”

Ludwig looked at him with a worried expression. “Feliciano, are you okay?”

“ _Mi dispiace_ ,” he mumbled. “I just hate when Roddy tries to help me bathe. It’s so embarrassing! And he tries to help me when I don’t need it. I’m not supposed to get my arm wet and that’s only really a problem when I wash my hair, but…”

“But what, Feli?”

“…but he doesn’t wash it right,” he blushed. “ _And he tries to pull my curl straight_. Then he tries to help me clean everything even though I tell him I can do it one-handed and it’s very uncomfortable.”

Ludwig sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Do you want me to help you instead?”

Feliciano smiled. “If you don’t mind.”

“ _Ja_ , whatever. But why is that curl an issue? What is that even for?”

The Italian’s face flushed again and he mumbled a quick “Don’t worry about it” before he hopped out of bed and started gathering his clothes to change into.

They reached the bathroom and stepped inside. Ludwig offered to leave while Feliciano got undressed but he said that was okay and to close his eyes if it bothered him. So Ludwig closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of clothes rustling off the thin Italian.

“You can lock the door,” Feliciano said, still taking clothes off. “We only leave it unlocked when it’s me in here alone. And everyone leaves their doors open like mine so I don’t feel too bad.”

Ludwig turned around, feeling for the sink as not to bump into anything, and clicked the door lock.

“I don’t mind being seen but I didn’t think you’d like to be walked in on helping another guy in the bath.”

Ludwig grunted in response, knowing he would have his ass handed to him if Lovino had walked in on him helping his naked brother clean himself.

Feliciano wrapped a towel around his waist, casting some modesty for the sake of his friend. Ludwig turned back around and started the water in the bathtub, sticking his hand in to test the temperature. Once he stopped the water Feliciano dropped his towel and got in, causing Ludwig to blush once again when he saw his friend’s nice ass.

He brushed the embarrassment aside and sat a new towel on the edge of the tub before grabbing Feliciano’s bandaged arm to set on it, leaving the Italian with one arm resting on the side of the tub. Then he cupped his hands with water and got Feliciano’s hair wet. He added some soap and scratched it in, amused by the content look on Feliciano’s face. He really did love having his hair touched.

When his hand got too close to the curl Feliciano grabbed it harshly. “Don’t touch that.”

“Why? It’s just hair.”

“Just let me get it.” Confused about why he cared, Ludwig let it be and let Feliciano use his free hand to move the shampoo around it, carefully avoiding it. Once they were done with his hair, Feliciano was attempting to wash his legs and chest and everything he could reach before asking for help. Ludwig sighed and grabbed the washrag to get his back. Feliciano, once again, responded like a cat with a happy expression.

Once they were done Feliciano was sitting on the toilet, towel around his waist, while Ludwig used the spare to gently pat his arms dry. He turned his back as the Italian got dressed and the two left the bathroom together. Upon leaving they were met with Lovino, who raised his eyebrows at them.

“I fucking _swear to God_ , potato bastard—”

Roderich stepped between them and handed Ludwig some money. “I’ll drive you two to the movies, you can use this for the tickets.”

Lovino growled at his blockade and Ludwig thanked his lucky stars for the Austrian man. The three left the house and drove down the street.

* * *

The movie had a definite effect on Feliciano. He cried at the start, which wasn’t unnatural since he wasn’t the only one and it began with the mother dying. It seemed cruel to Ludwig to start a movie like that, but it was over now.

They waited outside the theatre until they saw Roderich’s car pull up in front, which they hopped in. The weather was still chilly and Ludwig was almost envious of Feliciano’s scarf. They drove off in a comfortable silence. It was obvious how amused Feliciano had been, he was sitting in his seat humming the music from the movie to himself the entire ride. Normally this would be annoying but now it was a pleasant thing to hear since the teen had been too depressed to even talk much.

They got home and Feliciano tackled his brother at the couch, excitedly telling him how much fun he had and how great the movie was.

“You’d really like it, _fratello_! The girl was a lot like you! She was all _don’t kiss me_ and she kicked everyone’s ass and it was the coolest!”

“Was it?” Lovino chuckled.

“Yeah! And there was a raccoon and so many aliens and _I need that guy’s leg!_ ”

“What the fuck did you even see?!”

Ludwig sat down on a chair near the couches. “I took him to see _Guardians of the Galaxy_.”

Antonio fidgeted in his seat before bursting out, “ _Nothing goes over my head! My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it_.”

Feliciano bounced with excitement. “You saw it, too?!”

“I WAS SO EXCITED I SAW IT THREE TIMES. Gilbert and Francis loved it! We were crying at the beginning—”

“—when Peter’s mom died and she gave him the mixtape—”

“— _Awesome Mix Volume two!_ ”

The two brunettes sat there and continued to talk about the movie they deemed to be the greatest movie in the existence of mankind. Lovino and Ludwig just watched.

Ludwig turned to the older Italian, muttering, “It was a good movie but it wasn’t _that_ good.”

Lovino scoffed, “Nothing beats _Boondock Saints_.”

“I wasn’t a fan of the sequel.”

“You can’t just fucking replace Rocco! Killing him was a great injustice!”

From the kitchen the Edelsteins watched in amusement as all the kids talked. It was nice seeing them all getting along, and it was especially nice to see Feliciano this way again. Sadly they knew this wouldn’t last. It was just a good day for the teenager. They wanted to make sure the day didn’t end so soon. Roderich picked up the phone and ordered pizza and Elizaveta skipped into the living room, suggesting they all play a board game. Being in good moods, they collectively agreed and broke out _Monopoly_.

They played it for ten minutes before all hell broke loose.

“Fuck!” Roderich hissed when he rolled a three. Lovino cackled evilly.

“TAKE THAT, BITCH. GO STRAIGHT TO JAIL. DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT TWO-HUNDRED DOLLARS!”

Antonio watched him with horrified eyes. “Lovi!”

“Bastard was trying to take Boardwalk, damn it! I need that place!”

“At least you’re not the thimble,” Ludwig muttered.

“I got to be the racecar, _vroom vroom_ ,” Feliciano chirped.

Elizaveta sighed and picked up the box to the game. “Maybe we should play another game…”

* * *

“HA! TAKE THAT, BITCH.”

“Goddamn it, Lovino!” Roderich yelled. He had once again gotten a shitty roll, landing him on the spot that said he lost his house to a fire. He had just refused to buy insurance because it was “a scam” and “a waste of money.”

Antonio counted his brightly-colored dollars and supplied, “Lovi gets very competitive in games. You don’t ever want to see him on an Xbox.”

They played on until finally Antonio won the game of _Life_. The pizza had been delivered but waited on the table since everyone was too invested in their games to just leave them.

After they ate there was a knock on the door and Gilbert let himself in, waving to Antonio while announcing he had to take Ludwig home. He saw Feliciano playing with his new cat on the living room floor and walked by, telling Feliciano he was glad to see him doing well.

Ludwig hugged Feliciano goodbye and promised to text him. It was dark out and Feliciano retreated back to his room after his full day of excitement. He crashed into his bed, too tired to undress himself, and cuddled into the blankets. He had his eyes closed and felt the shifting of the mattress. He opened his eyes and spotted his brother sliding into his bed.

“Toni’s snoring,” he mumbled as an excuse.

Feliciano nodded into the pillow and closed his eyes. “It’s been a while since we shared a bed,” he sleepily mused.

“Yeah.” The brothers got comfy under the pile of blankets and slept together for the first time in five years. It felt safe and nice, like when they were kids (despite the screams from their parents’ room).

Feliciano felt the bad feelings creep up on him again and he sniffled and tried to conceal his feelings, not wanting his brother to know. Instead Lovino pulled him in to his chest, much like Ludwig had. He stroked his little brother’s hair and hummed a bit, something their mother used to do for them when they were very young and still very loved.

Lovino wanted nothing more than to make up for abandoning his brother and leaving him to fall apart like this. He continued to pet Felicianon’s hair and began to hum and sing a bit as a lullaby. And in this moment, Lovino understood what his little brother was feeling. He knew he wouldn’t just get over his depression and dark thoughts or the bad urges he knew he had. He just wanted his little brother back. He didn’t think he could handle another attempt.

Feliciano sobbed a little and Lovino continued to stroke his hair and hold him close. It was best for him to let it all out rather than keep it inside like he’d been doing. Lovino felt like he was the only person who even saw that his brother was still struggling with talking about his feelings. It seemed like Feliciano had finally taken after Lovino in that aspect.

The younger brother cried until he calmed down. Lovino kept humming and holding him close. Surprisingly enough, Feliciano felt a little better afterward. He still felt like giving up but he finally understood: these caring people aren’t faking it. It’s not just some self-righteous act. If someone like Lovino could give in and treat him so tenderly, there was no way it was anything but genuine.

He fell asleep with his brother, assured the hope he had given up was salvageable. The seed of doubt, however, grew on inside his chest. If he didn’t silence it soon, it would bloom into something devastating and unstoppable. There was a balance to wanting to live or give up, but tonight it tilted into the warmth of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Illusion" by VNV Nation**
> 
> _I know it's hard to tell how mixed up you feel_   
>  _Hoping what you need is behind every door_   
>  _Each time you get hurt, I don't want you to change_   
>  _Because everyone has hopes, you're human after all_   
>  _The feeling sometimes, wishing you were someone else_   
>  _Feeling as though you never belong_   
>  _This feeling is not sadness, this feeling is not joy_   
>  _I truly understand. Please, don't cry now_


	17. Stop and Stare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Anxiety Attack, Suicidal Thoughts**

The first visit to the therapists was draining. He had to talk about everything and be evaluated, this time not just by some hospital therapist. He was then diagnosed with anxiety and depression—or was it situational depression? He was too spaced out to catch half the things the old man said to him or asked.

The saddest thing Elizaveta ever heard was when she was driving him back home and he asked her if he was messed up for how he reacted to incidents—learning that day that he had an anxiety disorder, which caused him to be more bothered by little problems. It made sense to him now why he would be late to class and feel absolutely humiliated when Alfred would often come to class late and brush it off (though Alfred isn’t a good example). Even Ludwig would come late and just apologize and sit down. Feliciano didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to _panic_. He thought it was normal, at least for him.

He took his phone out and clicked Ludwig’s name before typing,

**He said I have depression and anxiety**

The phone vibrated back, showing the timely reply.

**How are you feeling now? Did it help?**

He hated to admit it and he hesitated before typing,

**Eh. But I know whats wrong now**

They got back home and Lovino called for Feliciano to join him in the kitchen to help. Happy for the distraction and illusion of being normal he immediately obliged and helped his brother make their dinner. It reminded both brothers of growing up and fending for themselves. It was a darker time, and even today was part of dark times, but it was getting brighter as it went.

The bruising on Feliciano’s neck was now gone and it felt good to finally be able to walk around without a scarf or turtleneck on. His arm was healing but scarred, but he could live with that. They went on cooking together as Antonio sat at the nearby table on his laptop. The happy Spaniard soon called out, “Lovi, Lovi! Come look!”

Lovino went over to him, staring at the screen. His face held a small smile which made Feliciano curious.

“What is it?” he asked.

Lovino turned the laptop so Feliciano could see the screen which held an image of a house. “Looks like we just got a new house.”

Feliciano’s face dropped. Before his brother and (then secret) boyfriend were living in an apartment in a town hours and hours away. Now they had a _house_? Those were so much more permanent. When would he even see him now?

Huh. Is that the anxiety or is that just a normal response? Feliciano couldn’t help but wonder if what he felt had to do with one of his disorders.

“Why the long face?” Antonio asked.

Lovino walked to his brother and smirked at him. “Our new house is going to be about fifteen minutes away from here.”

Feliciano’s face lit up. “You’re coming back?”

“Si.”

“For good?”

“Si, si. I’m coming back.”

Feliciano was so excited he nearly knocked over the pots on the burner when he hugged his brother. “You’re really coming back? This is real?”

“Of course it is, Feli,” Antonio chimed in. “Family should be together. Besides, I’ve been missing my friends from around here.”

The hug lasted a long time before Lovino tried to separate himself from his brother. He noticed the tears sliding down the younger’s cheeks and he placed his hands on his shoulders. “Shit, Feli, don’t cry! What is it this time? What, was therapy rough? Shit, shit, _chigi_ , what did we do?” He worried and chewed his lip trying to figure out what he had done to set off his brother when he heard a giggle.

“Happy tears,” he cried. “I’ve missed you.”

And they hugged again, leaving Antonio to skirt around them and tend to the forgotten food. From the living room Elizaveta and Roderich smiled at the encounter and felt like Feliciano was getting closer to recovering.

Sadly, the recovery was further down the road than they could anticipate. Feliciano wasn’t about to forget his problems and he was far from ready to give up his habits.

* * *

Lovino and Antonio had left days later and the small family was left alone once more. Feliciano was given time off school to recover for a little while before he was faced with the same stressful environment that his therapist was convinced played a decent role in his depression.

Feliciano also never told him about the abuse, still having trouble accepting it himself.

Things were back to when his parents died, with one of his guardians always being home while the other was at work or checking in at the flower shop. Feliciano simply wasn’t allowed to be alone for extended periods of time, even with all the sharp and potentially poisonous items locked away. It went as far as Elizaveta making sure he kept his nails trimmed so he would have a harder time hurting himself. It was frustrating for the young man to say the least.

Then there was the awful weekly shopping trip.

* * *

Elizaveta killed the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt, waiting for Feliciano to do the same. Roderich was at the shop and wouldn’t be back until late, which prompted her to go grocery shopping since they were running low on food. Feliciano was forced to tag along, which he hated more than himself at the moment. He wouldn’t admit it but since the attempt he was losing his ability to deal with crowds and seeing people.

He wouldn’t dare tell his therapist, even if it was confidential. All he wanted was for everyone to see him as normal again, to stop acting like he was a bomb about to explode, and _to leave him the hell alone_ every once in a while.

“Come on, Feli, let’s go before it gets too crowded!”

“Yes, Miss _Hungary_!”

She smiled at the name and they stepped out of the car and crossed the street into the store. Feliciano could already feel the anxiety welling up in his chest as they grabbed a shopping cart and walked around deserted aisles.

Every time they passed someone— _anyone_ —stock boy, tired mom with a baby, old man looking at greeting cards—the anxiety grew. Feliciano knew in the back of his mind that none of these people knew him or cared what he was doing at the store on a school day, and none of them were even looking at him, but he couldn’t stop the fear blooming.

_They’re better than you. You should be in school and where are you? Being babysat in a grocery store by a women who doesn’t even trust you to have long nails. Why couldn’t you have killed yourself right? This wouldn’t be a problem if you’d suffocated like you were supposed to._

Feliciano rubbed the back of his neck, not even feeling the slight ache where the bruises were healing. He bumped into Elizaveta when she stopped to look at bread, causing her to turn around to him. She recognized the anxious look in his eyes and the distance his gaze had, never landing on anything.

“Feli, honey,” she spoke quietly, “Are you okay?”

He dropped his hand and felt his ears burn as he tried to say, “S-si,” instead getting a weak voice and tell-tale signs of his lie.

“Feli, don’t lie,” she said with soft eyes. “Do you need to leave?”

_Jesus, look at you. You can’t even handle being in store for two seconds?_

“Yes,” he mumbled, eyes on the floor. “But if we leave now it’ll be a waste of a trip.”

Elizaveta stood quietly, mulling over her options in her head before pulling her car keys from her purse. “How bad is it? Do you need to be home or do you just need to be out of the store?”

That was the moment Feliciano knew Elizaveta might know what she was doing. It seemed remarkable to him that she would understand that he didn’t just need to leave and go back home, but needed to get away from the outside world for a moment.             

“Store… I need to get out of the store…” It didn’t surprise him how hard it was to admit that. “I think I’m going to cry,” he quickly added to stress the need to get away.

The car keys were placed gently in his hands. “Go wait in the car, I’ll be out in a few minutes. You’ll be okay, Feli. I trust you.”

He quickly nodded with a shy smile and hurried outside and to the car, dropping the keys a few times with his increasingly shaky hands as he tried to unlock the passenger door. Once he was inside with the door closed he felt he could breathe, unaware of the breath he had been holding. The car was good, it was safe. No one was in the car to judge him and know he had problems.

He sat there with his head in his palms until he heard a tapping at the window where Elizaveta was waiting. Once she had the keys back and unloaded the groceries they were on their way back home.

“Are you doing any better now?”

“Yes,” he said tiredly.

“If the store bothers you that much you don’t have to go. I had no idea it would upset you like this.”

He remained quiet after that, afraid of revealing how afraid he was to be outside. He already screwed up with that almost-episode, he didn’t need her knowing how bad it still was! He wanted everyone to think he was getting better quickly. It’d be easier, that way when he—

The door slammed and he woke from his thoughts, seeing they were home. He got out to help carry the groceries in (not allowed to use his hurt arm), struggling to carry bags one-handed.

Once they were inside and the food was put away he excused himself to take a nap. It was weird to him to lose privacy, even just with the door open, it was difficult to adjust to. He was too tired from his trip that he quickly fell asleep, feeling emotionally numbed. Elizaveta peeked into his room a while later and watched him sleep for a bit before she left to work on chores.

* * *

_The room was white-washed and blurry to his eyes. The hospital bed was familiar and the heart monitor to his left was beeping silently. The jagged lines were dull green and deteriorated as it flowed. Feliciano didn’t know how he got there and he couldn’t remember what happened before this, but this moment was… oddly comforting._

_Ludwig stood beside him and looked angelic, framed by the lighting fixture above them. He smiled the kindest smile Feliciano had ever seen in his life. He looked truly content and Feliciano felt the same way, the emotion growing as his supposed heart rate slowed._

_And he smiled, grateful for that lovely heart monitor. The lines became more and more smoothed out until finally the last beep sang and the line went flat. The world became faded and warm and lighter than air as he, too, faded away. His last thoughts were purely the memory of how beautiful that moment was and how he finally felt okay and complete. There was no doubt and no worry—just pure bliss as he died._

* * *

Feliciano was smiling into his pillow when he woke up. He blinked the sleep away and sat up slowly, registering his room in his mind. No. No, this wasn’t right—this was the same as before—where was the hospital room and the monitor and the angel he knew as Ludwig?

Where was his peaceful death?

His smile fell and his heart did as well. He was still alive, and thanks to these people he would be for quite a while now. It was hard not to break down crying when he had to get up and keep breathing.

_If you liked that dream so much why don’t you make it real? People always say follow your dreams. Do something right for once and follow that dream._

Surely second time’s the charm, isn’t it? He knew what he wanted and there was no way he would let anyone get in the way this time.

Gino mewed from the floor and hopped into the bed, effectively keeping Feliciano from getting up. It looked like his scheming would have to wait another day. As for right now, he had a purring cat in his lap that was much too soft to pass up petting. At least one of them could be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Stop and Stare" by OneRepublic**
> 
> _Stop and stare_   
>  _I think I'm moving but I go nowhere_   
>  _Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared_   
>  _But I've become what I can't be_   
>  _Stop and stare_   
>  _You start to wonder why you're here not here_   
>  _And you'd give anything to get what's fair_   
>  _But fair ain't what you really need_


	18. Bleeding Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Hatred**

Feliciano was finally allowed to take the bandages off his slowly-healing arm and take baths alone once more. He still couldn’t lock the door and one of his guardians would periodically knock and ask him something to be sure he was still alive and well.

It was difficult to abstain from self-injury for so long and it was making him feel worse as the urges and cravings to draw blood or any form of pain rattled his brain at every negative feeling. He was doing his best to be good for the time being, for when he gained enough trust to be left alone he would finally get to relieve some much needed stress.

Ironically, it made him feel much worse now that everyone was so worried about him. He understood they were just trying to keep him safe and help him, but how was he supposed to feel when he wasn’t even allowed to lock a door or be alone for an hour? He couldn’t even be near sharp things or medicine. He had to rely even more on the Edelsteins and he hated all the unwanted attention. Every time he would get bored they would pester him about his feelings as if his blank expression was some kind of omission of guilt.

But he would deal with it all for now.

It was another long day and Feliciano was sitting in the passenger seat as Roderich drove them back home from another trip to the therapist. It was boring as hell to go and talk about his feelings, and Feliciano found that he was shutting down when it came time to talk. He just couldn’t find it in him to say how he was feeling at home, instead just saying he felt fine since, at the moment, he did.

Once they got home Feliciano crashed on the couch, immediately taking his daily siesta. Roderich raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, at least he’s comfortable living here.”

When he woke up Gino was asleep on his stomach and he was having trouble remembering his dream. He laid there, petting the cat softly, slowly regaining the dream in his mind. It was the same dream as before, though this time Lovino was there in bed with him as he slipped away.

The idea of his big brother being by his side, just like when they slept together as children, was comforting and if Feliciano had his way he wanted to die like that. He wanted to feel safe and warm and have his brother next to him and Ludwig there as well. Realistically he knew he would never get such a happy ending, for he would have to be dying of something—like cancer or some disease—and if he was dying, there was no way his loved ones would be as calm as him.

_Fuckers_.

Feliciano blinked away the sleep and surprise at his hostile feelings. This was weird and those damn happy pills only made him feel worse. It didn’t make him want to hurt himself or die, no, but he hated the artificial happiness that sat hollow in his chest. He couldn’t even be sure what was happiness or just a void where the pain couldn’t reach. It was basically the same thing, right?

That was enough of that. The urge to do something, anything, was becoming a little too strong in his small frame. He jumped up, causing poor Gino to mew in confusion as he tumbled aside on the couch. Feliciano went to his room, leaving the door barely ajar as the new house rules demanded. Inside he sat on his bed with a small _thump_ as he racked his stressed brain for _something_ he could do.

Gino! Cats had claws, he could just make Gino scratch him! And scratches always itch so he’d have the perfect excuse to be bleeding and scratching!

…Except Gino is the calmest cat he’d ever met. It was near impossible to get the damn thing riled up unless it saw another cat (something they learned when it got outside and started harassing all the neighborhood cats).

Why was God punishing him like this? This was like his penance but he couldn’t even serve it! Bad people are punished and if everyone else was too blind to do it, then he would have to do it himself. He wasn’t religious at all but he believed himself to be a Catholic, though not like his grandfather.

_Let it go,_ he warned himself. _The day will come._

* * *

He didn’t like those pills he was forced to take. The pain medicine was okay but  _depression pills_ ? No. There was no way he was going to let his mind be warped like this because everyone else thought he needed to be changed. At a certain point something broken can’t be fixed. Feliciano was jumping high above ‘broken.’

It confused him that he could still have good days. These days where nothing set him off or forced him to sit on his bed and inconspicuously pinch at his stomach or pull his fingers back further than they could naturally bend. There were days where he woke up to texts from his brother or Ludwig, then receive happy calls, or be given new toys to play with Gino. There were moments everything felt okay again, where he would see Elizaveta and want to call her mom.

In these rare days he felt like he really was loved and wanted. He felt that if he died, people would be upset like he was with his parents.

Then it would hit him… Lovino _hated_ their parents. Everyone acted so shocked to hear about them and what they did. Why would they act any different to Feliciano? They surely had to hate him, they might cry at first until they realize what a _blessing_ it was for him to finally die.

Even if he was wrong, it doesn’t matter. Feliciano had a terrible life and it was time he did something for himself. He shouldn’t be forced to live because these people are selfish and need a charity case. It wasn’t fair. You don’t make a dog take medicine and suffer in life just because you don’t have it in you to euthanize it.

He’s doing what’s humane. He’s helping. He’s removing himself from everyone’s minds and erasing the worry he created. The world is overpopulated, he’s a burden financially and emotionally to the Edelsteins, Lovino needs to forget the past and lose what’s tying him down to it…

And through all these excuses and reasons, Feliciano felt something foreign stabbing through him. The peacefulness from the last time he confirmed his suicide was gone. He knew what would happen this time if he was caught: another hospital stay and lost trust. But that wasn’t much. He’s done that all before. If he failed, he’ll try again. He’ll learn how to deceive everyone into letting him be alone just long enough…

* * *

That night Elizaveta brought home dinner for the small family. Feliciano sat at their dining table, readying himself for the act he had to erect. Time to act like before!  _Time to pretend I’m having a good day!_

“Feli, dear,” his pseudo-mother called. “How are you doing today?”

“Better,” he sheepishly replied, knowing better than to be too enthusiastic. “Ludwig texted me and asked me to see another movie. It was really fun last time.”

Elizaveta’s eyes lightened up. “That’s wonderful! What movie?”

He hadn’t planned this far ahead. He ate the food on his fork to stall and mumbled, “He didn’t say.”

They went on with their dinner and Feliciano congratulated himself on the confident looks he caught on his caretakers’ faces. They fell for it! They don’t even know how miserable he is!

The small victory was followed by a fall in his heightened mood. It didn’t matter to him much, he knew he would finally be finishing what he started. He wasn’t going to let himself wake up in a hospital room this time.

He excused himself and went to take a shower, the door still unlocked. He wasn’t about to give anyone any new reasons to distrust him. He did, however, use scalding water for as long as he could manage. Any pain was welcome at this point. He deserved it.

* * *

The following week was spent in bed, the young teen unable to find any reason to leave. He naturally wanted to be in bed and sleep or just lay there all the time, but before he had his brother or caretakers or Ludwig around which made him be more active. He needed to look good, like he wasn’t that bad (though the suicide attempt was a dead giveaway). Now Elizaveta was knitting in the living room and Roderich was cleaning the dishes, neither paying much attention to the lazy boy behind the cracked door.

The bad feelings twisted around in his guts, reminding him of this unending pain his brain wrought upon him. It was all in his head, to be technical. A chemical imbalance or the realization he was nothing and worth the same. It was the same feeling he got when his father began smashing bottles or his mother knocked on his door. It always led to being hit or slapped or yelled at. Reminding he was a bad child, ungrateful, a disgrace.

_Maybe I am a disgrace_ , he would say to himself. _I **am** ungrateful. They saved my life and I still want to die? I should just make things easier on them. A funeral would cost less than housing and feeding me._

It was clear as it could be, like the ash bellowing smoke from one of his brother’s cigarettes. It hurt, it hurt _so_ much, but he knew what needed to be done. It had to be done. There was no other way.

* * *

They were asleep, he knew that for sure; Feliciano had tip-toed out of his bed and saw his caregivers asleep and motionless in their bed. Their door was open for easier access to Feliciano if he needed them—or, God forbid, they needed to get to him.

It was too risky to go in and search for hidden medicine or keys to the locked drawers. He would have to make do and find another means of dying. He considered drowning but ruled it out, knowing how horrifying it would be and how difficult to pull off. He’d need to resist the urge to breathe and pull himself out of the water. Suicide was hard enough to accomplish; he knew he wanted to die but he couldn’t help the fear pricking at him.

He couldn’t hang himself either. He wasn’t allowed belts anymore since Roderich confiscated them, sickened from the doctors telling him his foster child used one in his attempt. Then shoelaces would be too thin, besides that he would need quite a few to make it work.

So he lightly padded across the floor to the front door, hands shaking as he worked hard to not make the metal locks scream out as he escaped. In a minute he was out the door and closing it gently.

The air was cool and the sky was clear, the stars like candles in the sky. Feliciano watched them for a moment before the anxiety of running away and being caught hit him. Barefoot he went forward, taking faster and faster steps away from the house that tried so hard to save him.

_But I’m not worth saving._

Feliciano went on into the night, ready to seek out some way to die peacefully, his body not to be found until the next day. It would be easier this way. It would be so dreamy, to go out like the sun. He liked the idea of passing away in nature, though the reality was cruel; he would have to find somewhere that had the capabilities of taking his life within the night, before anyone could find him and stop him.

* * *

He walked a few miles before he felt he was far enough from the Edelstein house to safely do it. The night felt colder since he was still in just his pajama pants and a T-shirt that exposed his arms. He didn’t care at this point, it wasn’t like anyone would see his scars. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Throwing himself in front of a car would be selfish. Feliciano could vividly remember Alfred coming into class in a huff because he saw on the news that some homeless guy killed himself via train and how traumatized the waiting passengers were. It was a selfish act to die so _violently_ in public. He had to do it easy, simple, and isolated.

He grew desperate when he realized he had little to no options. _Fuck it_ , he thought. He would do this one service to the world, even if it scares a few people. He would die, damn it! This is everything he and everyone else needs!

There was a bridge near a park he used to go to with Lovino when they were kids and needed to get out of their house. He could go there and try to jump from it, hopefully it was high enough to cause damage (and not brain damage, but _fatal_ damage).

_The house!_

There had to be something at the house, like a gun he didn’t know about or maybe a secret drug problem he blocked out of his memory? That house was a deathtrap unlike the baby-proofed Edelstein house.

With a bitter smile he took off in the direction of his old home, breaking into a sprint to reach his fate just a few minutes sooner. That house started his problems and now would finally fix them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons**
> 
> _When the sky turns grey_   
>  _And everything is screaming_   
>  _I will reach inside_   
>  _Just to find my heart is beating_


	19. Do Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm/Cutting**

It was probably midnight when Feliciano finally got within the area of his house. He was regretting not wearing shoes, feeling every little pebble or twig in his path. The road leading to his house was older, broken up and without any yellow or white lines to divide it. It had been years since any repairs had been made to it, leaving it cracked and light grey.

Fantasies filled his head of finding a gun in his parents’ room and just shooting himself there, as if he was with them again. He was becoming too eager and impatient to travel all the way to the park. What if kids were there? What if he scared a hiker or a bunny? No, he would die at his old home like it was meant to be.

And he walked. Tonight would be a good night.

* * *

_“Feli! Come to mommy!”_

_The small baby giggled and placed a chubby hand to his cheek before calling back, “Mommy!” and earning a warm smile from his mother._

_His father was on the couch, balancing a small Lovino on his knee, occasionally bouncing it up and down. Lovino laughed and held on, having as much fun as a child could. The Vargas parents had to handle their kids this way, as Lovino would get jealous whenever he saw his baby brother getting attention. He was too young to understand that babies needed attention and that he was just learning basic human functions._

_“Feli! Feli!” His mother cooed again, arms stretched out wide. “Come on, Feli! Walk to mommy!”_

_The baby sucked on his hand instead, eyes wide and bright. His mom smiled and turned to his father, saying, “Maybe he’ll walk tomorrow.”_

_His father bounced his knee again. “Hear that, Lovino? You’ll have to be our only athlete for now.”_

_Lovino gave a smug, confident smile. “I’m the best, **me** ,” he asserted. His parents laughed in response._

* * *

Maybe things would be different. If there was a Heaven, like his Catholic beliefs dictated, maybe his parents would be like before. They would be loving and nice just like before the world corrupted them. Feliciano would wake up on a cloud and his parents would welcome him into their arms and they could be a family again.

Or there will be nothing. Anything was better than this and Feliciano would even welcome Hell with open arms if it meant escaping his reality. Nothing could be worse than this. At least, it felt that way.

There was a breeze and Feliciano shivered and crossed his arms in a futile attempt at warmth. He sneezed quickly and paused his walking to attempt warming up just a bit.

Then he heard it. The soft rustle of clothes and an inhale of breath. Footsteps faded into his hearing then stopped. A soft, gentle voice called out, “Feliciano?”

The Italian swallowed and tried to place that voice. He knew it, yes, but where from? It was so calm and welcoming. He turned around, surprised to see a man he hadn’t seen in what must have been months. Before him stood a tall man in a long coat and scarf with soft eyes and light hair illuminated by the moon.

“M-Mr. Braginsky,” Feliciano finally recalled. He was shocked to see the old customer here, though more shocked that the Russian man remembered his name.

“Da,” the man said, an undertone of confusion in his cheery voice. “I haven’t seen you at Edelstein’s in a while. Did you quit?”

Anxiety tugged at Feliciano and he mumbled, “I’m on leave.”

“Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that. I’ve missed seeing you there. You were always such a young and happy presence. I don’t normally see young people. None like you, anyway.”

The bigger man blocked the wind from chilling Feliciano, so he stayed to speak, figuring this could be his last conversation and he better make it a good one to remember as he die later. “Why is that, Mr. Braginsky?”

The man laughed. “Please, call me Ivan. And I work at an assisted living home.”

“A what?”

He laughed again. “It’s a place for the elderly or disabled, people who need help day-to-day. I like to bring in flowers for some of the residents. My sister loves when I bring sunflowers.”

Feliciano felt something like guilt pang in his heart. “Your sister? You mean she works there, too?”

“No,” Ivan’s face fell a fraction and Feliciano felt his heart do the same. “She was in an accident a while ago. Her spine is badly hurt. I got a job there to see her more, she always feels much better when me and my older sister see her. My other sister lives in Russia, so she can’t visit as often. Only around holidays.”

Feliciano looked away, feeling uncomfortable with the topic. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.

“It’s alright,” Ivan said. “But come back to work soon, da? Natalia likes it when I give her beautiful flowers from her secret friend, _Feli_.”

“She does?”

“She does.” For a moment Feliciano could swear Ivan’s eyes lingered on his crossed arms and the few visible scars, though the man didn’t show it. He just smiled again, patted Feliciano’s shoulder, and said, “Come back soon, I miss seeing you around.”

Then he walked away, just like that. Feliciano could feel the warmth leaving his shoulder and instead move to his heavy eyes. The tears pricked at him and he took a shaky breath before he took to jogging the rest of the way to his house. He didn’t plan to cry, he didn’t want to! He was going to pass away quietly and now he has to calm down or it’ll be just as pathetic as last time!

* * *

_There was another crash and what sounded like glass shattering. Feliciano sat in his closet, behind the broken doors, with a pillow held tightly to his ears and eyes shut tight._

_“How can you fucking fail Spanish?! It’s the same as Italian!” His mother’s voice screamed. There was another noise the young kid couldn’t identify. Following it were whimpers, small sounds he knew were his brother._

_Lovino knew better than to talk back. He also knew better than to show pain… which made Feliciano really nervous to hear the small noises through the wall. The sound grew still and more bottles clacking in the kitchen came through. Lovino then limped in through the broken bedroom door, carelessly nudging it closed with his arm._

_He hobbled over to the dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a few bandages in various colors. Feliciano removed his pillow to see his brother sitting down across from him, one eye blackened, and passing the bent box over._

_“Can you…?”_

_“Si,” Feliciano whispered. He watched, stomach turning, as Lovino hissed and took his T-shirt off. The teen turned, facing his back to his brother, who eyed a few bleeding spots. “I’m sorry, fratello.”_

_“It’s okay,” Lovino groaned, voice awkward and still deepening each day. “It’s over now.”_

* * *

The front door had been jammed closed but the cardboard covering the front windows were nothing to take down. Feliciano eased his way through the opening, annoyed at the pressure in his soft legs from the windowsill. He was inside finally and taken aback by the smell: a weird mixture of dust, dirt, alcohol, and cigarettes. It was nothing like the earthy flower shop or the clean Edelstein home or even the cold school.

He walked to the couch and took a seat, thinking back to the night his parents died. This was where he had been, sitting and waiting. His blood was still smeared on the wall, though blackened by time. His house had always been dirty but there was a new layer of filth on everything. It was obviously an empty building completely untouched in months. It hurt to feel this validation. He knew his parents were gone but to come back here and see the proof…

Reminiscing wasn’t helping his already poor mood so he got up and began his search for a weapon. There were still empty bottles all over the house, some broken, some covered in gnats or filled with various bugs. Feliciano found some old kitchen knives and placed them on the coffee table. Another drawer revealed an extension cord, which he placed with the knives—maybe he could use it to hang himself.

The bathroom had been empty except for toilet paper rolls or assorted cleaning supplies, but he chose not to use those to die. Poisoning himself left too much possibility of still waking up like last time. Sure, drinking some bleach probably wouldn’t fail, but he was too afraid of throwing it all back up.

Then he searched his parents’ old room, not finding anything. He felt nervous just to be in there, as if he was about to be caught and punished for snooping around. He gave up when he found an old condom wrapper. That was _not_ how he was planning to remember his parents.

In his bedroom he only found his busted furniture and forgotten drawings shoved into corners. Feliciano chose to do it the simple way: slitting his wrists and dying in his bed. This time he had no worries about ruining the carpet or blankets or making the house a haunting reminder.

So he took the knife and retreated to his bitterly cold room. The bed was creaking under his weight and smelled of mothballs. He gave his room a last look before turning his attention back to the knife.

This is it, this is really it!

He slid the knife over his skin, making a few shallow cuts to get used to the feeling again. As much as he liked it, it was still a bitter and sharp sensation of breaking into the skin with purpose. He switched to his other arm, stopping after two cuts when he realized how anxious and shaky his hands were.

The knife rested back over his first arm, hesitation lasting a second before he forced it down harder, gliding it slowly at first before ripping it across the scarred, pale skin. Feliciano gasped at the shooting pain and the pooling warmth. The blood flowed and became a river, no doubt a lethal cut.

Then there was a beep. He hadn’t heard that sound in a while, like Ivan’s voice. What was it?

_“We’re not home right now, leave a message!”_

The answering machine? It’s been months, how could it still be working?

Feliciano grasped his good hand over the cut and inched out to the living room area, ignoring the dizziness building in his head. On the floor, under a pile of clothes and garbage, was a small red light and a wire. He kicked the trash aside and sat before the small, old machine.

The small screen said there were seventeen new messages. No one ever called them so Feliciano assumed these were newer, like banks or official places calling to say they were about to cut off their water or whatever they hadn’t paid for.

In his curiosity he clicked around on the buttons trying to find the one that made the messages play. He finally found it and regretted it.

* * *

_“Figlio? Lovino called me earlier. I know… I know you’re gone. It was just comforting to know I could call. I love you_.”

* * *

Lovino’s voice filled the air. “ _You’re gone. I can’t believe it_.”

* * *

 “ _Hey, mamma, papa. Rest in peace… or whatever_.”

* * *

“ _You bastards! How could you do this?! How could you fucking do this to us? First you make our lives hell then you go and completely fuck us? I wish you were alive so I can tell you to your faces how fucking horrible you were! Christ, I h-ha_ —” The call broke off into a series of sobs and a voice, likely Antonio’s, saying something indistinguishable.

* * *

“ _Your funeral was nice. You’d have liked it_.”

* * *

“ _Jesus fucking Christ. First you die and do this to Feli, then you make him so fucking upset that he tries to die, too? Christ, when does it end with you people? Leave my little brother alone! What the hell did he ever do to you?_ ”

* * *

“ _He made it. He’s alive and I haven’t felt such fucking relief since the funeral. Fuck you if you think you’re taking him from me_.”

* * *

The messages continued on like that, with Lovino screaming his rage into the phone or their Nonno speaking in soft Italian or broken English. There was another caller Feliciano didn’t recognize who spoke to his mother. He hiccupped and wiped his tears away, a head rush sweeping through his brain. That was when he noticed the red covering his arm and dripping to the floor.

Lovino never intended for him to hear that, he never thought anyone would. Did he mean that? Would dying really hurt him that much?

* * *

“ _I swear to God, if he goes then I’m next…_ ”

* * *

Feliciano swallowed hard and wrapped an old shirt around his arm. No, no, _no_ , he can’t die like this, this can’t be the end! He scooted himself over a few inches and reached for the old phone that didn’t work half the time. He prayed it would work, it _had_ to work, he needed it to work!

His shaking hands barely dialed the number and he nearly cried out in joy when he heard ringing.

* * *

Ludwig groaned and rolled over in his bed, blindly reaching for his buzzing cell phone. The screen was blurry to his eyes but he felt an urgency when he saw Feliciano’s name.

“Hello?” He said groggily. “Feliciano? Is something the matter?”

“ _I… I need the hospital_.”

The German sat up and felt his blood run cold. “What? What happened? Where are you? Feliciano?!”

“ _One-four-seven-six Adams Road. Please, Luddy_.”

Ludwig felt panic surge into his body as he rushed to his feet and stumbled through his house, desperately searching for car keys. “Stay with me, Feli, what happened? Talk to me!”

“ _I made a mistake_ ,” the quiet reply came.

Ludwig grabbed his brother’s spare care keys from the kitchen table and rushed outside, barefoot, to the car. He tried to keep his friend on the phone, to keep talking and stay awake, as he searched for the house in the dark.

He finally found it and bolted from his car to the front door. A stray cat meowed and ran from a fallen trash can as Ludwig pounded into the door. This felt all too familiar.

The door burst open and Ludwig ignored the throbbing in his shoulder. On the floor he found Feliciano, barely awake and holding assorted clothing to his wrist. There was a small pile of stained articles of clothing next to him, soaked through with crimson.

Ludwig rushed to Feliciano, helping him up and out to the car. From then he drove to the hospital, speeding for once. He carried his small friend who was losing blood quickly. The nurses were startled when he burst in those doors in a frenzy.

* * *

Feliciano sat on the gurney of his temporary room, guilt swelling in his chest. Ludwig stood beside him and occasionally gave signs of affection like short hugs or pats on the shoulder. Feliciano cringed at the sight of his arms; the left arm wrapped tightly in bandages (covering his stitches), and his other arm with smaller bandages for the cuts.

Ludwig sat beside him and Feliciano laid his head on his friend’s massive shoulder. He felt a little better. He felt like maybe he was wrong… maybe people did care. They sure cared tonight.

* * *

They stayed until Elizaveta and Roderich showed up and spoke to a doctor. They smothered Feliciano once they got to him, hugging him and kissing his head. Roderich took Ludwig out to get coffee elsewhere in the hospital to leave the mother-and-son pair time to speak.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Roderich admitted, looking away. “You keep saving Feliciano.”

Ludwig blushed and also looked away, forgetting the paper cup in his hand. “He saved himself. He called me for help.”

Roderich took that in and sipped his coffee. “You’re both lucky to have each other.”

Ludwig nodded. “We are.”

Back in the temporary room, Elizaveta was petting Feliciano’s hair and kissing his forehead over and over. The small teen leaned into the affection and sniffled, unable to contain himself much longer.

“I’m s-sorry,” he cried into her shoulder. “I’m sorry!”

Elizaveta shushed him and held him tightly. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” She kissed his hair and waited for the boy to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Do Better" by Say Anything**
> 
> _Drink alone and watch TV_   
>  _You're expecting harmonies_   
>  _To tap your tune with silver spoons,_   
>  _The anthem of impending doom_   
>  _Guiding Satan's steady hand_   
>  _Forcing Beatles to disband_   
>  _It's ego freaks and drama queens_   
>  _The young at heart know what I mean_


	20. Slip Out

Feliciano went home with his foster parents later that night, this time not forced to stay at the hospital. They thought it would be better for Ludwig to stay over with them, being he was the one who saved the teenager’s life, so Elizaveta called his house to alert his parents.

That night was emotional again now that Feliciano wasn’t hiding it anymore. He decided to be open from then on, and to actually try when he went to therapy or when people inquired about his health and mood. The pain of guilt still swirled in his stomach but he shushed it down whenever he caught the grateful looks his family was giving him. They were thankful he was alive and he felt overwhelmed.

* * *

Feliciano went back to school once the suicidal urges calmed down. He had been seeing his therapist weekly since the first visit. Since the incident at his old house he had to spend a lot of emotional hours spilling his guts and admitting his thoughts. After a couple weeks he had his medicine adjusted and found his anxiety from before had considerably lessened. No longer did he get a text and panic that someone was going to confront him about his old habits or secrets, but he was instead happy to receive a message. He began to learn ways to cope and ways to make himself feel better without having to hurt himself. He still slipped up every once in a while and would get so worked up he’d catch himself clawing at his arm again. This was easily stopped and he calmed down by calling Ludwig.

His arm was scarred and he made a point of wearing jackets or long sleeves as an easy way to hide it. When he got to his first class he was given looks of admiration by his classmates, something completely unusual. It made him self-conscious but he sat down and counted in his head, trying to calm down the feelings.

_One… two… three…_

Once he got to art he was greeted by overjoyed blondes. Matthew had hugged him tightly and Alfred joined in; their hug was so strong that he couldn’t break free. Feliciano sat with them and they began to catch up, only having talked through text since they last visited him at the hospital (though he was asleep when they did).

“Everyone’s looking at me like I’m John Stamos,” he told them.

Alfred looked away guiltily and Matthew smacked his shoulder and, in a warning tone, said, “ _Tell him_.”

“Tell me what?” Oh god they must have told everyone he almost died now everyone is going to be really nice to the poor suicidal orphan boy and oh shit they probably know he’s hiding a scar on his arm and did the bruise go away because last time he checked it did— _one, two, three, four…_

Alfred fiddled with his glasses before answering. “Well, people were asking why you were gone again. Sorry, I couldn’t use the ‘his parents died’ excuse—”

“ _Alfred_!” Matthew smacked him on the arm.

“Sorry! Anyway… People kept asking us where you were and I didn’t want some nasty rumor to spread about you, so I… sort of… started my own rumor…”

Feliciano’s eyes widened. “You started a rumor about me?”

“Yeah.”

“About _what_?”

“I kind of… said you went to Italy to study art and take part in some Italian program that was only running during the winter.”

Feliciano blinked at him. “You said I was studying art? In Italy?”

“And that it was _crazy_ selective and you were the only student chosen from the country. I said I couldn’t remember the name of the program because it was all weird and Italian-y.”

It was actually surprisingly kind of the hero-obsessed teen to do. No one knew he was depressed or in the hospital or, by some leap, figured out his parents abused him (not that Alfred knew that to tell anyone but Feliciano was paranoid over it getting out). Now everyone thought he was just working on his art. It was a very flattering lie, and he chose to accept the rumor.

He spent the class listening to a “happy playlist” Antonio put onto his iPod (a gift from Elizaveta, once again wanting him to be a teenager) and drawing with such detail it could make the teacher herself cry. If he had a lie to live up to he might as well work on his art.

* * *

Roderich was pleased to see how happy Feliciano had been when he picked him up.

“How was your first day back?”

He expected the usual reply, but was instead given something else to break the pattern. “It was nice.”

“Really? Not just ‘fine?’”

“Nope. It was a nice day,” he smiled.

Progress was progress. As they drove home Roderich made a mental note to tell Elizaveta about the improvement and maybe teach the teen how to drive. All this carpooling was getting to him.

Feliciano watched the scenery outside his window and focused on the blurred trees and road signs as they passed by. It was the first time he could sit and just _be_. No overthinking, so dark thoughts telling him to open the door and splat himself against the road. It was just calm and peaceful and quiet.

* * *

The following week had been a mixture of ups and downs for the Italian. Lovino and Antonio left to move out of their old place, finally comfortable with leaving now that Feliciano’s emotions were starting to balance out and he was no longer deemed a threat to himself. They wanted to be available (though hours late) if anything were to happen. Antonio had a weird fear that their new house would be cursed, as if moving there while things were hectic would only add to it.

Feliciano sat on his bed and flipped through a book Ludwig had given him when Gino jumped on top of it, demanding attention. The book was boring so he took the string of his jacket and used it to tease the cat, who went nuts and attacked it like it was Hitler. The cat began to spaz out and ran out of the room at top speeds and Feliciano sprinted after it, loving their little game of _Cat and Italian_.

Gino hid behind the edge of the couch, watching Feliciano with dilated eyes and ready to pounce. He, in turn, hid behind a chair and copied Gino, sneaking looks past the side of it. The cat would resituate himself and grow more and more excited until he would _pounce_ at Feliciano and run away again.

It had become apparent to Feliciano after getting Gino that he was a source of happiness Roderich had tricked him with. Roderich was a smart man and he just knew that his plan was to keep him happy and give him something to love and possibly live for. After a while, when he calmed down from his _I’ll-die-if-I-want-to-regardless-of-everyone-else_ phase, he found the cat made him happy.

Then there was the disturbingly effective methods of Antonio to keep him alive and happy—which was informing him that _Guardians of the Galaxy_ was going to have a sequel and he absolutely needed to see it. It was cheap, but it worked. Antonio even said he had a friend in high school he helped through his depression with little things like _“you can’t die yet, there’s a concert this weekend and I know you wanted to go!”_ And his friend would go, and he would come back happy again just for a bit. It worked until he recovered.

Feliciano could tell he was getting better, though at a painfully slow pace. He didn’t know how the depression snuck up on him. It wasn’t an instantaneous reaction to his parents and, he had to admit, he could tell leading up to their deaths that he wasn’t doing too well. He didn’t even know it was there until he began hurting himself. And, like he didn’t see it creep up, he also didn’t notice it fading away until he would think, _“Woah, I used to cry every night and now it’s only once a week,”_ and then,  
_“Hey, I used to hate talking about my feelings but now I feel so free,”_ and so on.

The doorbell rang and he hurried to open the door, greeting Ludwig with a hug before inviting him in. They sat in his room and talked. Ludwig would inquire about how therapy was, how he was doing mentally, what he felt, and Feliciano answered honesty; therapy was helping him cope, he was still really tired and had urges but was learning how to make them go away, and currently he was doing well (though the night before he couldn’t find his phone and went into panic mode before he found it vibrating under his bed).

“It’s good to hear you’re doing better,” Ludwig told him. “Are you still… mad you failed?”

It was a tender subject but Feliciano quickly responded, “No, I’m not. I wouldn’t have Gino if I did.” The cat was laying between them, pawing at anything moving.

The German smiled, simply replying, “That’s true. And we wouldn’t have you.”

A thoughtful look crossed Feliciano’s face before he picked up Ludwig’s hand and linked their pinky fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to get all better and we can stay best friends forever and ever,” he promised with a smile.

Ludwig accepted the finger linked with his and nodded, “ _Ja_ , you will get better. And I’ll be here to protect you.”

For the sake of remaining in good moods, Feliciano reached out and hugged his friend and, as not to ruin the moment, Ludwig hugged back. Gino was still between them and reaching up, trying to grab at the loosely hanging material of their shirts. Feliciano yawned and parted from the German, muttering about needing to take his siesta.

Ludwig nodded and was pulled down with the Italian to his surprise. “Lay with me, please?”

He tried his best to look stern but folded, “Just this one time.”

“Thank you, Luddy!”

And they laid there, napping over the covers of the soft bed. Gino grew tired as well and laid down between the small opening between both boys’ sets of legs. He purred and got situated. His body was warm against Ludwig’s and Feliciano’s legs.

It was nice and peaceful, just the way Feliciano liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whump is officially over.
> 
> **"Slip Out" by Beck**
> 
> _Sorrow is what I hate_   
>  _But it's grown my sensations_   
>  _Regrets taught me how to make any hard decisions_   
>  _Peace is always by my side_   
>  _But I've never felt it once_   
>  _Love is not a word reserved only for a sweet romance_


	21. Up the Wolves

The snow outside was blinding and beautiful to see. It was harsh and bitter and freezing outside since October and finally, in late January, they had received enough snow to stick and cancel school!

Feliciano was thankful for his issues to occur when it was normal to miss school and wear layers upon layers of clothes, though the upcoming months would soon warm up and create a new problem for him… attending the end of the school year in long sleeves when it would surely be ninety-degrees outside by June.

When Elizaveta came into the living room she was met with the sight of Feliciano and Gino sitting at the large front window and staring out into the gently-falling snow.

“Feli, do you want to go outside?”

The Italian startled and looked back to her. “But there’s snow.”

“And we have gloves and coats! Come on, just because you’re seventeen doesn’t mean making snow angels isn’t any less fun! Now go get your jacket on and I’ll find some of Roddy’s extra coats for you.”

Feliciano smiled and quickly scampered to his room, followed by the excitable Gino. Inside he found his old black beanie, the one that he used to hide his busted head months ago, and the scarf Ludwig had given him for Christmas with the Italian flag stitched into the ends. Inside his closet rested his sacred jacket with the tomato snagged and faded over the heart and he slipped it on after throwing on another couple shirts and sweatpants to fight the cold.

Elizaveta entered the room and helped him put on a fluffy brown coat and some mittens before they raced out the front door with Gino trailing behind. The snow was fluffy and not icy, something Elizaveta commented on being perfect for playing in. Feliciano felt like a kid once again and they played in the white masses, making snow angels and snowmen.

Their snowmen resembled their friends, even going as far as to make a tiny family. A tall snowman with a pebble mole under his mouth, a snowwoman with an apron tied around her waist, a snowman with a bit of dead grass on the side of his head, and a small lump they claimed was a snowcat.

Feliciano giggled and recalled when he was a little boy playing in the snow with Lovino, who had claimed to be too old for snow but was playing with him anyway.

Roderich’s car pulled up and he watched the two curiously before calling them to come inside and get warm. They were promptly scolded for tracking water inside but they ignored it in lieu of getting warm as fast as possible.

Later that day Antonio called and spoke with Elizaveta, excitedly telling her they picked a date for the wedding and finally got the rest of their stuff unpacked in their home. They spoke a bit more and she held her hand over the receiver before calling out, “Feli, honey!” The Italian walked in, finishing a text on his phone, finally acting like a teenager. “How would you like to visit your brother? Antonio said they finished unpacking.”

“I get to visit _fratello_?” He bounded with excitement.

“I take that as a yes,” she giggled. “Pack an overnight bag. Antonio will get you in twenty minutes.”

And within that time, Feliciano was packed and ready to go. He waited in the living room, stroking Gino’s fur, trying to remember where he put the mittens he was given earlier.

Antonio let himself in, calling out to Elizaveta as a greeting before ushering Feliciano out to the car with him. It was still running and warm as ever. They backed out slowly, Antonio mumbling about watching for black ice as they went.

It took them longer to get to Antonio and Lovino’s house since Antonio was trying to be slower and more careful now that he had another person in the car. They got to the house, a nice little home that wasn’t on a main road nor in a neighborhood. It sat in a mostly deserted area, the neighboring house spaced out considerably and the road to it being a side-road no one would take unless going to one of the few homes. It was quiet and nice, though the roads weren’t as well salted or cleaned as the roads in Roderich’s neighborhood.

Antonio parked the car and grabbed Feliciano’s bags before they rushed inside, slipping on the icy porch and laughing it off before finally meeting the door. Inside Lovino was cooking something Italian and didn’t bother to look up when he called, “Hey, bastards.”

Feliciano waited in the living room while Antonio dropped his bags off in the guest room. There was a fireplace and the mantle was covered in framed photos (most likely Antonio’s doing) of the engaged couple, along with a scattered few including Gilbert, their blonde friend Francis, and an older one of Lovino and Feliciano that was bent and torn at the edges.

There was a nice knitted blanket on the back of the couch and a few big throw pillows were around, something obviously meant for Lovino’s daily siesta. Feliciano left and walked down a short hall where there were doors to bedrooms, a bathroom, and a closet. He peered in the one open door and entered, seeing Antonio in there.

“Hey, Feli! This will be your room tonight,” the Spaniard happily chirped. There was a twin bed in the center of the plain, light blue room. Being that it was a guest room it didn’t have much, though it did have an alarm clock, a closet that surprisingly had clothes in it, and a few dressers and nightstands with either generic lamps or little trinkets adorning them. “Normally I sleep here with Lovi’s mad at me.”

The young Italian turned to leave and stopped when he saw something on the wall near the door, something he had completely missed coming in. On the wall hung a beautiful painting, shiny and colorful and professional-looking. Feliciano immediately recognized it as a painting he gave Lovino for his birthday the year before.

“He kept it?”

“Of course he did! It’s always great when you get a painting this good and don’t have to pay a few hundred for it,” Antonio winked. “Hey, if we ever go bankrupt all we need is to get you to make a few more paintings and we’ll be rich!”

* * *

The three ate their dinner and took turns picking movies to watch as the night went on. Of course, Lovino picked  _Boondock Saints_ and identified a little too much with Rocco. Given that  _Guardians of the Galaxy_ wasn’t out yet, Feliciano and Antonio had to pick different movies (wishing for their beloved Star Lord to save them). When they ran out of movies to agree on they flipped channels on the TV and let Feliciano pick what they watched since satellite television was a new and exciting experience for him.

It was late and they were growing a little too amused by random “reality” shows and other ridiculous shows with people acting over-the-top for stupid reasons.

“It’s getting late,” Antonio commented. “We should get to bed.”

Feliciano nodded and walked to his room for the night. Antonio, a classic host, popped his head in to say “ _Buenas noches_.”

“ _Buonanotte_ ,” Feliciano tiredly replied.

The Spaniard left, closing the door behind him. Feliciano watched the door in amazement, noting that this was the first time someone closed the door for him. The open-door policy at his home was no longer being enforced, but no one closed the door out of the small worry in their head that the same problem from before would resurface, as if a door could hold that power.

Antonio trusted him. There was even a lock on the door. Feliciano smiled to himself before getting under the covers of the bed. Finally, things were going back to normal.

Then there was a muffled banging from a nearby room in the small hallway.

_“Fuck, Toni! It’s so big already—”_

_“Shh, or your brother will hear us!”_

_“The door’s closed, isn’t it? He won’t hear! Come on, fuck m—”_

Feliciano pulled his pillow over his head and held it tightly to his ears. Maybe things weren’t totally normal. In the dark he reached for the nightstand and found his iPod, carefully turning it on and listening to it to try to block out his loud brother’s sex noises.

_“FUCK, TONI!”_

He turned the volume up and hummed to himself, “Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while—”

_“GOD, YES!”_

“Heaven can wait, we’re only watching the skies. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, are you gonna drop the bomb or not?”

_“RIGHT THERE, YES! GOD!”_

“FOREVER YOUNG, I WANNA BE FOREVER YOUNG,” he squeaked into his pillow.

The loud banging and continuous cries of his brother didn’t cease and Feliciano eventually sat up, wide-eyed, realizing his iPod did nothing to drown out the noise. He picked up his phone, quickly typing a text.

Meanwhile in the next room Lovino and Antonio were in the midst of lovemaking when there was a quiet buzzing on the nightstand next to an abused bottle of lube. Antonio saw it from his position on top and stopped moving.

“The fuck did you stop for?”

Antonio tossed him the phone and Lovino’s curl went limp. On the brightly-lit screen was his brother’s name, and under it read the simple message,

**Do you think Ludwig could make me scream as loud as you two???**

The couples’ faces were tomato red and they could hear a “Thank you!” from the guest room.

“I told you he could hear us,” Antonio said, embarrassment filling him.

“I fucking swear to God, he better stay _far_ away from that potato bastard.”

Snuggled cozily in his bed, Feliciano sighed in contentment at the silence. He knew it was low to bring Ludwig into this, but what better way to cockblock his brother than give him some scarring imagery?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Up the Wolves" by The Mountain Goats**
> 
> _There's going to come a day when you feel better_   
>  _You'll rise up free and easy on that day_   
>  _And float from branch to branch, lighter than the air_   
>  _Just when that day is coming, who can say? Who can say?_


	22. The Call

February was chilly and a little gloomy with the present snow still melting away, but Feliciano was fine with that. He was allowed to work at the flower shop again after begging for his job back. Roderich was surprised to see the teen genuinely liked working there.

After school and in the shop Feliciano tied his apron on, noticing how it still wrapped around him like a dress but wasn’t quite as tight before. As it turns out, proper nutrition does that. There were more people working there so it was no longer the Edelsteins and Feliciano. The Italian was pretty happy to come in one day and see Kiku, his friend from History, sweeping the floor by the back near the stock room.

“Hello, Feliciano,” he formally greeted.

“Hey, Kiku! I didn’t know you worked here, too!”

Elizaveta waited behind the counter, occasionally calling the boys over for some work to be done or some new instructions. It was refreshing to have so many young people in the shop, even if they were working.

“ _Italy, Japan_!” She called out.

“Coming, _Miss Hungary_!” Japan watched the two, confused at the nearly-racist nicknames. They met her at the counter and she pulled out a chart all about flowers and focusing on roses.

“It’s February, which means we’ll be a lot busier. We’ll have men in here a lot for roses around Valentine’s Day, so I need you boys to work especially hard on prettying-up the roses! Trim them and make sure the wilting ones are in the back or thrown out.”

Kiku stayed back to study the chart, taking note of the different rose color and rose number meanings. Feliciano, on the other hand, skipped away to continue watering the flowers.

“Very interesting, I did not know color could convey such meaning,” the silent boy remarked.

“Oh yes, most flowers are symbolic of something romantic,” Elizaveta hummed.

“Red for love, pink for grace, white for remembrance,” he noted to himself. “Orange for gratitude and yellow for congratulations. Very interesting indeed.”

The month dragged on and Feliciano remained in better spirits as the days passed by. His job was something he remained looking forward to, this time not just as an escape. He learned Matthew, too, worked there on certain days, having work around his hockey schedule.

It was nearly Valentine’s Day when Antonio stepped into the shop. It was busier than he’d ever seen it and there were men looking for anything even somewhat romantic. Roderich had taken to selling chocolate and pink dolls as well, making quite a profit from it. He spotted Feliciano carrying a stack of boxes from the stock room and he hurried to him, taking a few and setting them down when the Italian began to struggle.

“Ah, grazie, _Spain_!”

“Oh, we’re back to countries?” 

“Force of habit,” Feliciano blushed. “Do you need something?”

“Ah, _si_ … I kind of forgot to get anything for your brother and I know shops will be sold out on Valentine’s Day, so… help me out here,” he begged.

Feliciano smiled and went back to the stock room, holding a heart-shaped box of chocolate in his arms and a red teddy bear with a bored expression. “Here, take these. Roderich said we couldn’t sell them because the box was bent and the bear wasn’t cute, but there’s nothing wrong with them!” He glanced around before whispering, “And it’s our last box of dark chocolate.”

“Wowzers! Thanks, Feli!”

“We have some roses someone never picked up, I can give you those, too!”

“Feliciano, I couldn’t have asked for a better future brother-in-law!”

Feliciano grabbed the roses from the back, quickly pruning off some damaged petals before escorting Antonio to a register to get him out as quickly as possible.

“And remember! Don’t let Lovi see them! And keep the flowers in sunlight or they’ll wilt before you give them to him!”

The hectic day continued and they quickly sold out of dolls and chocolate. Roderich muttered about the next delivery being the following day and a few threats to no one in particular if it was late. The shop closed and the four workers got ready to leave.

Roderich stopped Feliciano and Kiku as they were hanging up their aprons. “You two did very well today. There’s some damaged stock in the back, feel free to take whatever you want as a thank you for helping during the busiest time of the year.”

Kiku turned down the offer but went with Feliciano as he rifled through their “damaged” items. Roderich had such high standards sometimes—there were an entire bouquet of roses sitting there just because it began to wilt! Nothing some hardcore pruning couldn’t fix!

“ _Italy-kun_ ,” Kiku slipped, falling into the same nicknamed pattern. “Do you really want those? They’re dying.”

“They’re just as good,” the Italian cooed. “And I want to give them to Ludwig! He’s my best friend and I kinda owe him. This will show him how much I value our friendship!”

And before Kiku could give any kind of logical explanation why that was a poor idea, the Italian was off and skipping down the street with his bouquet.

Feliciano knew Ludwig would be getting out of the gym by now, so he took a few turns and walked to the big building, waiting outside and humming to himself as he waited. It only took a few minutes before the blonde came out the front with his brother, who was laughing about something or another.

“Luddy!” Feliciano called. The German startled and turned to him.

“Feliciano, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to give you something!”

Gilbert eyed the two and said, “I’m going to wait in the car, West.” He walked off, straining his ears in hopes of catching something before he was gone. He was disappointed when he got to the car with no new gossip.

Ludwig stood in the cool air, sweat still glistening on his skin while a duffel bag with his gym clothes hung from his broad and muscled shoulder.

“Well, what is it? It’s almost nine,” he reminded.

“Oh, yeah! Here,” Feliciano handed him the bouquet, the red roses illuminated by the light spilling out of the gym windows. “I got you some flowers since it’s almost Valentine’s Day!”

Ludwig stared at the flowers that were pushed into his hands, eyes wide as he stared at the flowers and looked back to Feliciano.

“Feliciano, what does this mean,” he cautiously asked, knowing for a _fact_ that presenting red roses, especially so close to a romantic holiday, was a _confession of love_.

The Italian tilted his head and wondered how Ludwig could be so smart all the time and not grasp the concept of a thank-you gift he got for free from work. “Um, it’s exactly what it looks like?”

Ludwig’s face became as red as the roses and Feli gave him a quick hug before he dashed off, saying he needed to get back to the flower shop before Roderich left.

Of course, when Ludwig got to the car with the bouquet he was laughed at by Gilbert until they got home. As a sign of respect, Ludwig searched out a vase for the flowers and placed them on his desk near a window. He sat on his bed and stared at them, confused about the sudden confession. Did his best friend really feel that way? Was he hiding it the entire time? Is that why he seemed better whenever Ludwig visited him—because he was reuniting with his love? Did he think _Guardians of the Galaxy_ was a date? _Is that why he let Ludwig see his ass in the bath_?! WAS HE PRESENTING HIMSELF?

That night was spent in a restless sleep for the German.

* * *

“Kiku, you work at Edelsteins,  _ja_ ?”

“ _Hai_ , I do.”

It was lunchtime and Ludwig hadn’t been able to focus at all during his classes. All he could think of was those damn roses mocking him and calling to him.

“I take it you understand the meaning of roses?”            

“That is correct, I do. Did _Italy-kun_ give you the bouquet?”

Ludwig’s face reddened. _Fuck, even Kiku knew_. “… _Ja_ , he did. And… what does a bouquet of red roses mean? I’m sure it’s different in America!”

“Red stands for love.”

“And the bouquet itself?”

“Also love.”

Ludwig put his head down and ignored his food. How was he supposed to eat when he knew his best friend was in love with him? He’d never had someone confess love to him before! What the hell is going on?

“Germany-san? Are you not hungry?”

“ _Nein_ , Kiku. I’m just going to lay here for now.”

Kiku shook his head and watched his friend curiously as he sat with his head down. He loved his friends but sometimes they were so weird. It’d be much easier if they adapted the Japanese way and be completely conservative.

* * *

It reached study hall and Ludwig was doing his best to avoid eye-contact with Feliciano. They had a substitute in class, which simply meant everyone could get away with much more nonsense. Feliciano didn’t seem to notice he was being ignored,  _thank Gott_ , and he drew away in his artists pad. Some kids near them were playing on their smartphones and tablets, watching videos and movie trailers.

Ludwig heard the familiar music from _Guardians of the Galaxy_ accompanied by Star Lord’s voice.

“Hey, Luddy, it’s our song!”

“What?” Feliciano was smiling happily at him when he turned to see him. Then he heard it—the damn trailer song.

_“I’m hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing that you are in love with me!”_

His face flushed and he got flustered, asking, “Why would that be our song?!”

“Because we saw the movie together!” Feliciano replied naively.

“I have to go.” Ludwig packed up his books and rushed out of the room, unnoticed by the substitute who was far more preoccupied in a crossword. Feliciano sat there, staring at where he was, wondering what was bothering him so much.

* * *

**Are you ok?**

**Luddy?**

**Did I do something?**

**Talk to me**

**I love youuuu**

Ludwig stared at his phone in horror. He thought he felt bad when he saw the texts of self-blame but then that last text, another damn proclamation of love! What was he going to do?

Gilbert approached his door, having heard the distressed noises through the walls, and forced the door open. “What’s eating at you, West?”

“Never mind it, Gilbert.”

The albino stood in the doorway and glared at him. “You’ve been moping around since you got those damn roses. If you won’t talk to me, I’ll just go ask Feli myself why you’re being so—”

“ _Nein_! I’ll tell you if you just shut up leave Feli out of this,” he bargained. The panic on his face was clear as day.

Gilbert smirked. “I’m waiting.”

“Feli… gave me roses. Before Valentine’s Day. _A dozen red roses_ ,” he groaned.

“So?”

“SO! Even an idiot knows that it’s symbolic of love! He was confessing his love for me and he just texted me he loved me! And I don’t know what to do about it! He’s my best friend…”

“Then ignore it.”

“What?”

“Ignore it. It’s only weird if you make it weird. I’m guessing you’ve been making it weird.”

Ludwig looked away and mumbled something incoherent.

“If Feli doesn’t care that you haven’t answered yet, then he won’t care if you wait. Just drop it and move on.”

Ludwig watched his brother as he walked away from the room. He was an idiot but it seemed like sound advice. So he did his best to ignore the glaring, wilting roses and didn’t say a word about that day to Feliciano, who didn’t seem any different than before the incident.

* * *

Months passed and Feliciano still didn’t mention the roses, something Ludwig was grateful for. It was like it never happened and things were right again. It was late May and time for the seniors to graduate, meaning Ludwig would be moving on and out to college soon.

Feliciano was given one of his tickets to get in early for graduation. Along with Gilbert and his grandfather, Feliciano sat with Lovino, Antonio, Elizaveta, and Roderich. Admittedly, Feliciano looked good in his blue suit and black tie. He wanted to look good for his best friend’s graduation.

And they cheered the loudest when Ludwig Beilschmidt was called. The German cringed a bit when he heard “VIVA LA LUDDY!” from the audience. Well, from Feliciano.

Once the ceremony was over he met with them all in the front of the high school and Elizaveta made everyone get together for photos. She caught a few candid ones, deciding to keep them to herself for now, when Feliciano approached Ludwig with a rose.

“A… r-rose?” Ludwig stuttered, holding the thin stem.

“I even cut the thorns off for you!”

“But… Feli, what does this mean?”

“Exactly what it looks like!”

The German was left stunned, holding onto the yellow rose as the Italian happy skipped back to his new family. He was glad, yes, that the carefree Feliciano was back… but all these roses were going to be the death of him!

His grandfather had invited the mixed family to go with them on their celebration dinner, which they all happily agreed to. Lovino cleared his voice and announced he would have to meet them at the restaurant and had an important errand to run first. So Antonio gave him the keys, carpooling with Elizaveta and Roderich instead.

* * *

Lovino drove away from the high school and didn’t stop until he got to the cemetery. A shiver ran through him as he parked the car and pocketed the keys on his way to the headstones of his parents.

The names were printed plainly along with their birth dates and years. Lovino had total control of what was carved in and refused to let anyone write some bullshit about them being “loving parents” or whatever generic shit was always on them.

The dirt was packed and there was lightly-colored grass and some weeds growing where it was once bare. It was weird to see it so different since he had only seen it at the burial in November, hard and cold. He didn’t have flowers or anything to give to his dead parents, so instead he pulled up some crabgrass from the side and placed it over both their graves.

“Hey, mamma. Hey, papa. I liked to think you two went to Hell for what you put us through—what you put Feliciano through. But I can’t help but think maybe you went to Heaven, and you’re the way I remembered you as a kid; back when you cared about us. I’m hardly a good Catholic and I can’t tell you what kind of eternal torment I think you two deserve for what you did, but I can tell you that Feli beat you. You beat him for years and in the end _he_ beat _you_. He’s alive and well and finally getting over the shit you did to him.

“You made him miserable and think he deserved the life he had, but now that you’re gone, he finally has a family. And heads up, I’m gay as _hell_ and engaged to the greatest man I have ever met. You couldn’t keep us down and I’m glad you’ll always be six feet below us.

“And sorry for not having flowers, but you don’t deserve more than weeds.”

Lovino stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees before walking away from the gravesite. He hopped in Antonio’s car, quietly composing himself before he put the keys in and drove toward the restaurant. Inside he found their table, already seated, with Feliciano sitting next to Ludwig and talking with his hands like a true Italian.

Everyone from graduation were there and Antonio waved his hand when he saw him. There was a seat saved just for Lovino and he took it, grabbing his fiancé’s hand under the table and smiling at him in a very un-Lovino-like way. He couldn’t stop the smile, much like Feliciano. It was nice to sit there, surrounded by their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"The Call" by Regina Spektor**
> 
> _Now we're back to the beginning_   
>  _It's just a feeling and no one knows yet_   
>  _But just because they can't feel it too_   
>  _Doesn't mean that you have to forget_   
>  _Let your memories grow stronger and stronger_   
>  _'Til they're before your eyes_   
>  _You'll come back when they call you_   
>  _**No need to say goodbye** _

**Author's Note:**

> **"Into the Ocean" by Blue October**
> 
> _I want to swim away but don't know how_   
>  _Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean_   
>  _Let the waves up take me down_   
>  _Let the hurricane set in motion_   
>  _Let the rain of what I feel right now... come down_   
>  _Let the rain come down_


End file.
